Safe
by Insomniaprone-writer
Summary: Hermione's second chance at 7th year is destroyed when Draco becomes head boy. They're forced to share a dorm, but don't have a chance to get settled in, before they're shoved into a safehouse together. Trapped. Can they get past their differences to figure out who has taken up Voldemort's job? Or will insanity devour them completely?
1. Sick

A/N: AHHHH. This is my first real Dramione fanfic and I am excited.

Summary: It was supposed to be year 7, for the second time. Hermione was finally going to be head girl. Only problem was, Draco was to be Head boy. Even after Draco helped them win the battle at Hogwarts, Hermione still had a problem trusting him. Then, when it's revealed that a strong follower of Voldemort is taking over his position, Hermione and Draco are forced to confront their differences as they're trapped together in a desert location, desperately trying to figure out how to defeat this new enemy.

Disclaimer: No, for the last time, I'm not british, and I didn't write the books about the guy with the lightning scar. That was J.K Rowling *eye roll*.

Oh yeah, also, mature content and themes, blah blah explicit language. No sex right now, obviously. It's the first chapter, chill. Plus this is a slow cook fanfic. IT's going to take a while.

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—

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Hermione headed to McGonagall's office. _Something was wrong._ She kept her head down, and quickened her pace as she walked the halls, only the faint glow of her wand visible. Usually Hermione wasn't so paranoid, but ever since the war had ended, this worry clouded over her. _Something had to be wrong._

But what was it?

Voldemort had been gone for months now. Dead. So then why did Hermione still feel this crushing weight on her shoulders? Why did she tense up every time that somebody came near her? Even when it was just Harry or Ron, she'd practically attack them. And they would look at her as if she was nuts. They just kept asking her if she was ok, and trying to help.

But there was nothing they could do. She was isolating herself; staying up all night reading about fighting techniques, and then training in every spare moment of her time. It was going to be hard now that she was back at school.

The halls were never loud anymore. Everybody walked in dead silence, with ghosts in their eyes. At least the people who had come back. Some people, as young as 2nd years left. Where were they to practice and learn? Anywhere but the place that had been ruined.

Hermione's sanity was about as strong as a single thread, and she hated herself for it. She was supposed to be brave. And right now...she felt anything but.

Completely worn down by the last seven years, and completely worried for the next few coming. Maybe she was just being ridiculous. Maybe she just wanted to hold onto the adventure. Maybe she had a death wish.

That would certainly explain the last few years.

But Hermione knew it was more than that. She knew that something was wrong. The war couldn't have just finished. It couldn't just be over. Then what was all of that suffering for?

Sure, Voldemort was gone, but there were still plenty of people who thought that muggleborns were inferior. There were still plenty of people who wanted to kill the "Golden Trio". But that wasn't even what worried Hermione. She was just completely terrified that she would never be the same as she was before all of this. That none of them would be.

That Harry's nightmares would never stop, that her panic attacks would never cease, that the halls of Hogwarts weren't tainted with blood, and evil, and this dark menacing feeling of impending death.

And they acted like everything was fine. But she knew. She knew Harry and Ron better than anyone. Even if things between her and Ron were slightly awkward after they decided to just be friends. She had as feeling that he still wanted t be more, but she just didn't reciprocate his feelings in that way.

When the war was going on, she confused love for a best friend, with being _in_ love. Truth was, Ron just didn't make Hermione's skin sizzle. He didn't make her burn with desire, or wanting. He didn't emotionally stimulate her, as good of a friend as he was.

Lost in thought, Hermione jumped when she bumped into someone at the entrance of McGonagall's office, and her light went out. She clutched her wand tighter, but almost jumped again when a familiar voice whispered "Lumos" quietly.

She didn't even have to look at him to know who was standing before her.

"Malfoy," she spat out, practically accusing, and examined his features.

His grey eyes, usually bright with mischief, were dull, and dwindled with exhaustion. And his platinum hair was slightly ruffled. Hermione took pleasure in the fact that he looked like he hadn't slept in months, and almost grinned. But her pleasure did nothing to wipe the scowl off her mouth as he smirked.

"Granger," his gravelly voice surprised her; like he hadn't spoken in days. He cleared his throat. "If you're going to point your wand at my throat, you may as well throw a few hexes at me. I know you're dying too."

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows, but figured out what he meant when she looked down at her hands. She hadn't even realized that she had put her wand to his throat, but now that it was there, it wasn't going to move. Now she had a chance to figure out the deal with him.

"Malfoy," she spit out, scowling further when she realized that he didn't even look bothered. Slightly amused maybe, but mostly bored. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, well, I was just out for a walk in the middle of the night," he said sarcastically, before scowling. "What do you think I'm fucking doing here Granger?"

"What?" Hermione shook her head slightly, confused, but prodded the wand further into Malfoy's neck, when he shifted on his feet.

"Fucking hell, and I thought the weasel was thick."

"Don't talk about him like that," Hermione snapped, trying desperately not to look offended. While Ron was great, it was true that he wasn't exactly book smart. But she was determined to defend him to Malfoy no matter what.

Draco seemed disatisfied with her pensive state, and spoke again.

"McGonagall called me here."

"Yeah right." she narrowed her eyes. "Why would _she_ want to talk to _you_?"

He smiled, clearly amused, and said, "Oh... I guess McGonagall didn't tell you that I'm head boy this year."

The color immediately drained out of Hermione's face. She had been right. _Something was severely wrong._ Suddenly she was throwing spells at him. She silently disarmed him, successfully tucking his wand into her back pocket. Then, she used incarcerous to tie ropes around his body. Draco rolled his eyes, infuriating Hermione even further, and she wanted to punch the smug look right off of his face.

"Levicorpus!" she yelled, and watched as he dangled upside down. She was about to drop him to the floor, when she heard a voice.

"That's _quite enough_ Ms. Granger!" McGonagall yelled, her accent clear.

Hermione froze in place. Her heart angrily thrashed around in her ribs, and she clenched her fists, letting out a chilling breath.

"Liberacorpus," she muttered through her gritted teeth. Malfoy fell to the ground.

"I think you forgot something," Malfoy tutted his tongue, and Hermione composed herself. She respected McGonagall more than anybody, and she sure as hell wasn't going to give any other impression.

"Diffindo." The ropes fell, and Draco rolled his shoulders, standing up straight.

"That wasn't so hard was it?" he asked, crossing his arms, and sneering.

"Quiet, Mr. Malfoy." McGonagall warned. "Or I'll put you back up there."

He scowled, but remained silent.

"Now can we go to my office like civilized people, or are you going to have another outburst?" Mcgonagall eyed Hermione, and she sighed, following Mcgonagall up the stairs and into her office.

It looked exactly like it was when Dumbledore was there. Open, with books lining the walls, and a desk in the middle. Ms. McGonagall and Draco sat, while Hermione remained standing, tapping her foot impatiently on the floor, and contemplating incarcerating Draco again.

"So," Ms. McGonagall started. "The reason I called you here is simple. We need to go over your duties as head boy and head girl."

Hermione scoffed under her breath. If Draco was head boy, then being Head girl was a joke.

Ms. McGonagall looked at Hermione and pursed her lips.

"Do you have a comment, Ms. Granger?"

Hermione stopped tapping her foot, and walked closer to the desk.

"Yes." she clenched her jaw. "Why is _he_ head boy?"

"Ms. Granger, you know as well as I do that head boy and girl are chosen based on their academic skills, not for their pleasant personalities." She cleared her throat.

"Yes, clearly." Hermione rolled her eyes. "If that was the case, then he never would've assumed the position. But there has to be a better choice."

"You do know that I'm right here, don't you Granger?" Draco spoke for the first time since he sat down, and Hermione glared at him. "I'm not exactly glad that your head girl, but if McGonagall wants to choose a frumpy bookworm, then it's of no business of mine."

"Frumpy bookworm?" Hermione turned towards him. "At least I'm not an insufferable prat."

"Well, I'm not a stuffy know-it-all who doesn't know when to shut up."

"Wow, your insults sure are getting stale," Hermione mocked Draco. "No mudblood?" Draco tensed up at the word. "No disgusting waste of magic?" Draco's eyes darkened. "I expected better from a death eater."

Draco jumped out of his seat, and got dangerously close to her face.

"You don't know what you're fucking talking about."

She almost flinched at the tone of his voice, but she held her ground.

"Oh don't I?" she challenged. "You know what, maybe I should be glad that you're head boy. Maybe that way you won't turn into your father."

She was entirely sure that he was going to curse her right then and there, but Ms. McGonagall interfered.

"Stop!" she yelled, standing in between them. Hermione was panting, furious with the "Former" death eater, and he wasn't much more calm. " _Compose_ yourselves."

Draco still had a murderous glint in his eyes, but he turned away, and sat back down.

"Now, Ms. Granger, if you could have a seat as well." Ms. McGonagall gestured to the empty chair.

Hermione sat down, taking a few calming breaths. She had snapped in front of Ms. McGonagall. That couldn't happen again.

Ms. McGonagall remained standing, and looked at the both of them, before firmly saying, "My decision is final. You are both the perfect fits for head girl and head boy. Now, as for the duties."

Ms. McGonagall described in excruciatingly long detail, what you have to do when you are a head. Basically, they just had to make a few speeches a year, organize the dances, patrol the halls on Friday, and set an example for other students. It was the next part that was really excruciating though.

"So, I have some bad news," Ms. McGonagall looked down at her hands. "Because we're still fixing the castle, some parts of it are still in ruin...including all of the head dormitories except the Slytherin one. Because of this, You and Draco will have to share."

"What?" Hermione practically screamed.

"Now, technically, you will only share a common room, kitchen, and bathroom. You will have seperate bedrooms."

"I don't see why i can't just stay in the Gryffindor common room." Hermione said, calmly as possible. Draco still remained silent.

"Because you are head girl," Ms. McGonagall reasoned. "And it will be much easier for you two to discuss the school while in the same room."

Draco said nothing, as Hermione nodded her head, frowning.

"Now, as always, only you guys are allowed in the Head common room. No exceptions." Ms. McGonagall stood. "I'll escort you there now if you'd like."

"Of course, Ms. McGonagall," Hermione stood up at the same time as Draco.

They walked to the Slytherin head common room and stood in front of the portrait. Hermione looked dauntingly at the entrance, then at Malfoy, and back at the entrance again.

"The password is Zing," McGonagall said, looking at the both of them. Draco's expression was unreadable, and Hermione hated him for it. The portrait opened, and they climbed inside.

Hermione braced herself for the horrible dark atmosphere, but was pleasantly surprised to find that the living room was neutrally colored. The floor was birch wood, and there were no green flames in the fireplace. Hermione ventured into the kitchen, to find that it was in the same scheme of colors. She was completely confused.

"What is this?" Draco spoke before Hermione could.

"Well," Ms. McGonagall gestured to the room. "We thought it wise to throw out all house distinctions to prevent arguments between the two of you."

"That's ludicrous." Draco scoffed. "As if we would argue about colors."

"Yes," McGonagall said, in a sassy kind of way. " _That's_ what's ludicrous...Well, if you guys are all good, I'm going to leave you to settle in. Your trunks have already been placed in your rooms, and I assume you guys are going to behave yourselves."

"Yes, absolutely." Draco sneered, and took a seat on the couch, and Ms. McGonagall left them alone.

Hermione stood there for a while, not saying anything, but angrily staring at Malfoy as he watched the fire.

"Do you have something to say?" He asked, blasely. "Or are you going to continue to bore your eyes through my bloody skull?"

She wanted to sit on the couch. She hated beds, but always liked sleeping on couches. They set better positions to study. The only problem was, Malfoy was blocking it.

"Granger?" He shook her out of her daze.

"What?"

"Are you going to fucking answer my question or not?" He asked, clearly irritated.

"No," Hermione responded bluntly. "I'm going to bed."

She headed to the door, dreading having to sleep on the bed. But she refused to ask Malfoy for something. Her pride would not take that low of a blow. Not that night.

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—

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Draco sat bolt right up on the couch, and looked around him. Granger was nowhere to be seen, thank Salazar. He could not have her knowing that the only way he could get a fraction of sleep, was by sleeping on a couch.

He stood up, and stretched out, before heading to his new bedroom. As he expected, his room was lavishly accented with dark green. The walls and floors were a walnut wood, and his bedspread was silk. His trunk lay at the end of the bed, and he took the liberty of opening it.

It contained of his school robes, a couple of magic tailored suits, and casual clothing. It was Sunday, so Draco pulled out some jeans designed by his favorite wizard clothing brand, and a simple blue long-sleeved shirt.

He headed to the door that led from his bedroom to the bathroom, and frowned, when he saw another on the other side of the bathroom, clearly leading to Granger's room. The nasty looks he got from everybody were bad enough, but now he was forced to live with a constant reminder of the guilt he had for the last seven years.

There was one more door, that led to the living room, and he closed and locked all 3 doors, making sure that nobody could get in. He set his clothes down on the counter, and stared into the mirror. He scowled at his droopy appearance, and pulled off his shirt from the day before.

He stared at the large scar that went all the way down his lean chest, and scowled further. No matter what he did, that stupid scar he got from Potter's sectumsempra would not go away. It was like another constant reminder of his guilt, other than the obvious one. His dark mark.

He didn't understand why it didn't go away after Voldemort was killed, but it was a burden that he had to deal with everyday. Like this lugging weight on his arm; pulling him down consistently. And then there were the nightmares. The awful nightmares that haunted him almost every night.

They would always start the same. He would be riding his broom, in complete darkness, laughing.

And then suddenly he was back in the shop by the vanishing cabinet. Suddenly he was accepting the dark mark and writhing in pain. And then he would be in the middle of both sides of the war. They were both cursing him. One side yelled that he was a traitor, and the other said he was a death eater. They kept on, until he collapsed into a pile of dust, and then they were all bleeding. He would wake up, shaking.

He shook his head, took off the rest of his clothing, and stepped into the small shower, turning the knob so that the water came. Too small for his liking. He would have to charm it to be bigger on the inside, but remain the same on the outside. But for now, he worked with what he had.

He heard footfalls from the direction of Granger's room, and rolled his eyes. Did she have to be so bloody annoying? Oh wait, she did. He heard a bunch of shuffling, and realized that she was pacing her room. Of course, the walls had to be paper thin. Was McGonagall trying to test his sanity?

He finished his shower fairly quickly, and changed into his clothes, heading out of the bathroom, only to bump into somebody.

"Granger," he said, looking at her confusedly, before switching to his blase expression. She looked worn down. Her brown eyes sparked with a hint of insanity, and he didn't like it. "If you're going to hover outside of the bathroom, you should give a fucking warning." He moved past her to the kitchen, and could already feel her furious eyes boring into his back, as he scoped the pantry for food.

"I wasn't hovering," she said defensively, as Draco found some cereal, and poured it into an empty bowl.

"What was it exactly that you were doing then?" Draco asked, finding a spoon, and starting to eat his cereal.

"Waiting to use the bathroom, you take bloody forever." She folded her arms.

"Well, Granger, some people actually put thought into their outer appearance," he smirked, and Hermione walked over to him.

"Clearly not."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Draco squinted his eyes at her, abandoning his bowl of cereal and stalking towards her.

"It means you look like you haven't slept in months," she spat. "What's wrong? Can't a death eater sleep on a pile of bodies and be comfortable?"

Draco clenched his hands.

"I'm not a death eater."

"Oh, I'm sorry." Hermione looked him right in the eyes. " _Ex_ -death eater." She put hand quotations on the word ex, and Draco almost snapped. But he didn't.

He shook his head, and said, "Right, and you're the innocent Gryffindor _princess_."

Obviously he said the wrong thing, because she pulled her wand out and held it at his throat.

 _Fuck._ He had left his wand in his room.

"I don't trust you," Hermione said right in his face, and he clenched his jaw. "Nobody does."

"What else is new?" He looked down at her, venom in his voice.

"Call me a mudblood."

The words threw Draco off his kilter, and he paled.

"What?" He asked.

She stepped closer to him, forcing him back.

"I said, call me a mudblood."

"No."

"Say I'm impure."

Again, Draco said, "No."

"Call me filthy," Hermione spat the word in his face.

"No," he said through gritted teeth, still being pushed hit the wall.

"CALL ME A MUDBLOOD!" she screamed, and Draco flinched. She sounded like she was going to cry, and he hoped that she wouldn't.

"NO!" he yelled back, and Hermione ripped her wand away from his throat. She stormed into the bathroom, and slammed the door shut.

What just happened? There was bile in his throat, but Granger was in the bathroom. He ran out of the room, closing the portrait behind him, and sprinted to the nearest bathroom.

He opened the stall, and collapsed to the ground, letting the throw up out of his mouth and into the toilet. He heard a giggle behind him, and stood up, wiping his mouth with some toilet paper, before asking, "Who's there?"

"Oh, it's only Myrtle." she giggled, and revealed herself. "Are you sick?"

He turned towards her, fear growing in his eyes.

"I wish."

.

—

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A/N: Haha, I'm awful I know. Thanks for reading the first chapter. I can't wait to write the next one. I know it was a bit short, but it was just for introduction. And I know the room sharing is overused, but there are a lot of twists, so hold onto your hats. Hermione is still stuck on Draco's past, and Draco is going insane over that himself so...we'll see...

Also, credits for the cover go to one of my best friends who is the greatest, Jordyn. You're the best!


	2. Ask and you will recieve

A/N: Oh...my...gosh. People are actually reading this. Thank you guys so much. I didn't think that anybody would actually like my story, but the responses I'm getting are fantastic. 21 followers in the first couple of days? It might not seem like a lot, but for me it is, and I'm so grateful for you guys. Anyway, on with the story.

Disclaimer: Still not J.K Rowling. Seriously stop asking me.

Mature content and themes, explicit language, blah dee blah (I'm going to stop mentioning this part at the beginning...you guys know.)

Still no sex...If there is I'll warn you, in case you wanna skip.

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—

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"Did you receive the papers determining the class schedules for students?" Ms. McGonagall asked a distracted Hermione.

"Huh?" She looked up from her hands.

She hadn't slept a wink in the last week, and it was all because, every time she got back to the dorm after classes, Draco was already sitting on the couch, staring at the flames in the fireplace.

It was starting to wear Hermione down, and she had contemplated asking him to move so that she could sit there often, but she refused to owe him something.

Then there was the gigantic elephant in the room of her outburst the week before. He hadn't looked her in the eyes, or taunted her, or argued with her since. Not that she wanted him to. She was avoiding him herself.

She felt like she was going crazy. Like everyone else was normal but her. Even _malfoy_ seemed more sane than her.

"The student's schedules," Ms. McGonagall repeated, and Hermione broke out of her daze, nodding her head. "Right, well, usually the records would automatically record them permanently, but since the empty record books were destroyed in the war, we have to copy them into empty books manually, until we can create new ones."

"Of course, professor," Hermione replied. "I'm sorry that I haven't been able to focus much."

"Yes. I have a feeling that might have something to do with your new sleeping arrangements?"

"No, No," She shifted, uncomfortably. "I'm just trying to adjust to being back here."

"I understand." McGonagall stood up after Hermione, and walked her to the door. "I trust you'll inform Mr. Malfoy?"

"Um...sure.." Hermione exited the office, and walked down the stairs. She was _not_ telling Malfoy. She didn't want to have to talk to him. And besides, she could do it on her own.

She started walking back to the dorm, but before she could get halfway there, somebody stopped her. It was Ginny. When Ginny saw Hermione, she hugged her like she couldn't believe it, and Hermione smiled. _Finally, something familiar._

"Hermione!" Ginny exclaimed, before pulling back to look at her face. "Where've you been? I feel like I haven't seen you in forever."

"I know," Hermione shook her head. "I've had a little bit of a hard time adjusting to my current situation, but I should've sought you out sooner."

A look of understanding passed across her face.

"Right, I heard you've been forced to room with the _ferret_." Ginny rolled her eyes, and Hermione laughed at the old nickname.

"I almost forgot about that, thank you for reminding me," she said, starting to walk again.

Ginny walked alongside her, and asked, "So, how is that for you anyway?"

"Awful," she admitted. "He just keeps acting...weird."

"What do you mean?" Ginny furrowed her eyebrows.

"I don't know." And that was true. She had no idea what she meant. "He just...doesn't ever call me a...mudblood anymore."

"So?" Ginny made a face that said, _Isn't that supposed to be a good thing_? And Hermione scowled.

"It's bloody annoying."

"How so?" Ginny asked.

"I already don't trust him." She shrugged her shoulders. "And prejudices don't just disappear overnight."

"Well, it probably wasn't overnight." Ginny said, and Hermione furrowed her eyebrows together.

"What do you mean?"

"I _mean_ ," Ginny gave Hermione a pointed look. "Think about it. He couldn't kill Dumbledore."

"And? A lot of far worse people can't kill."

"Just give him a break Hermione." Ginny sighed, and Hermione's eyes widened in surprise.

"Give _him_ a break?" She snapped. "And when has he ever given _us_ a break? He's a _death eater_ for Godric's sake."

"Not anymore," Ginny reminded her, a solemn look on her face. "We all know he grew up with prejudices forced on him. And despite that, he couldn't kill Dumbledore when he was ordered to…We all make mistakes. He did what he had to do to survive." They stopped in front of the portrait, finally at Hermione's dorm. "The war is over, Hermione. We all need to move on, or else we'll be stuck in our heads forever. "

Hermione's forehead creased, but she smiled at her friend.

"When did you get to be so wise?"

"What can I say," Ginny shrugged her shoulders. "I was raised right."

Hermione laughed again, and they said their goodbyes, Ginny walking in the opposite direction as Hermione entered her dorm.

She was pleasantly surprised to see that Draco was nowhere to be found, and she quickly went into her room and found the piles and piles of paperwork. She sighed and pulled out her wand out, casting a disillusionment charm before levitating the stacks of paper. She walked back into the living room, and halted when she saw Malfoy sitting on the couch. She hadn't even heard the portrait open.

Hermione was about to ignore him, and just move past, but something about the expression on his face made her freeze. He looked...tormented. She thought about what Ginny had said.

 _Forced on him._

 _Didn't kill Dumbledore._

 _Did what he had to do_.

 _Over._

How could the person sitting in front of her, be any different from the person who had been mean to her for 7 years. Who looked at her with disgust, as if she was below him. He couldn't.

The whole reason that Draco had been on the wrong side of the war, was because he was a coward. He was a sniveling bully, and there's always a choice. He could've died. He could've fought with the good side. But he didn't.

Hermione shook her head. Ginny had been wrong. _The war was certainly not over._ She walked past Malfoy, and slipped out the door, making sure that the paperwork was behind her.

Once she was out, she released a breath that she hadn't even known she was holding.

She went to the library, and settled in the back, finally able to set the stacks down around her, and take down her disillusionment charm.

She got to work, keeping at a constant rhythm. Copying one page at a time into the books, and pausing every few seconds to make sure that she had gotten it right. Before she had even finished the first book though, Malfoy appeared behind her.

"Working without me, are we Granger?" He asked in a drawling tone, walking towards her, and speaking to her for the first time in 5 days.

"Malfoy," she said, ignoring his question, and standing up, still refusing to look at him. "What are you doing here?"

"You'd think it would be obvious." She imagined that he rolled his eyes, and scowled. "Ms. McGonagall found me in our head dormitories, and told me that she thought you might not have notified me of the work we're supposed to be doing."

Hermione sighed, and clenched her eyes shut. _Of course_.

"You can leave." She put her hand out behind her, stopping him before he could do anything. "I have it under control."

"Obviously not." Malfoy pushed past her, and looked at her 'progress'. "You've been here an hour, Granger, and you haven't even finished one book."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. She hadn't even realized she'd been there an hour, and had barely gotten anything done.

"Like you would do any good here." She scowled.

"Well, I assure you," he turned towards her, and she was forced to look in his eyes for the first time since her outburst. "That I could finish more than one book in an hour."

"I don't need your help," Hermione said, trying not to waver. "So, back off."

"Afraid I can't do that, Granger."

"And why not?" she squinted her eyes at him.

"Because I don't want to get blamed for your fucking mistakes!" he raised his voice.

"Can't be worse than your own." She countered, and Draco tightened his jaw.

He shrugged it off his shoulders, and grinned cockily, before saying, "I'm taking half of the paperwork and doing it at the dorm. Do what you like."

Hermione sat back down, and waited for him to leave. She hated feeling like Malfoy had the upper hand, and wished he would just show his true colors . She knew he was untrustworthy, but she just needed him to snap.

She was so tired of everything being different. God, she was starting to get restless.

Needless to say, Hermione didn't get any work done that night.

.

—

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Draco had gotten about half of his paperwork done, and was real bothered by it. He was almost positive that Granger had finished all of hers, and that she would greet him with a smug look on her face.

Instead, he was greeted by a weary face that didn't even notice his presence on the other side of the room. He cocked an eyebrow curiously, when she dropped what seemed like all of her paperwork on the ground, and stretched out on the couch. She hadn't done _anything!_

He was tempted to wake her, but thought better of it when a trembling sigh escaped her lips. He almost gasped in shock, but stopped, remembering that if she woke up with him staring at her she would probably slap him. _I really do hate her_ , he thought.

He thought about her outburst again. Why would she yell at him to call her something that she hated being called?

It would've been so much easier for him if he wasn't so annoyed by her personality. He just couldn't resist taunting her, or arguing with her. Hermione however argued way too much, and was stiff in a way that made Draco crinkle his nose, and wish he still had his old prejudices. Which, he wasn't too sure he didn't.

His mind was crammed. Crammed with all of the things he was forced to believe, and all of the things he thought he believed. And now, all those voices were just gone. The silence was deafening, and it was driving him insane.

Did he really think muggleborns were inferior? He had no idea.

After all the years of being told what to think, he didn't know what were his thoughts, and what weren't. It almost made him believe that those times were better, but he knew they weren't.

Draco stared at Granger again, taking in the image of her inhaling and exhaling, and scowled. Maybe he didn't feel disgust for her because of her blood. Maybe he just hated her because she was Granger.

He pulled out his wand and levitated Hermione's paperwork and his own, before leaving the room as silent as possible. No matter how much he wanted to see the look of humiliation on Granger's face as she came to McGonagall's office with bad results, the work needed to be done.

Maybe Granger would finally realize that just because he was mean to _her_ , didn't mean he was a death eater. He shuddered at the word, and looked down at his wrist. His Dark mark was exposed, and he didn't like it. He pulled his sleeve down until it was covered, and continued walking.

He finished the rest of the paperwork by the end of the day, and promptly delivered it to McGonagall. For some reason, she had trouble believing that he had finished that much in such a short amount of time, but he ignored that, inwardly smirking as he imagined the furious look on Granger's face when she realized he had done almost all of the work.

Before he could even think about gloating though, he saw Blaise Zabini walking towards him, an amused smile on his face. Draco stopped when he reached him.

"Zabini," he greeted his old friend cautiously. "What are you doing here?"

"I go to school here, remember?"

"I thought you were going to skip coming back, and take up your family business." Draco said, repeating what Blaise had been telling him all summer.

"Yeah," Blaise let out a non-humorous laugh. "Turns out my family is in quite a bit of debt, because of the whole _murder_ scandal."

"Oh." Draco nodded his head. The scandal, was that Blaise's mother, had killed each of her 7 husbands, to take their money. Salazar knew if that was true, but Draco had met Blaise's mother. She _did_ seem like the gold digger type, and he would know. "So, you're retaking 7th year?"

"No, I'm retaking _3rd year_." Blaise rolled his eyes, and Draco scowled. "So...heard you're rooming with the female portion of the ' _golden trio'_."

Draco scowled further.

"I'll take the expression on your face as a yes."

"Yep," was Draco's simple reply. "Speaking of, I need to go."

"Why?" Blaise's eyebrows snapped together suspiciously.

"No reason." Draco didn't know why he didn't just tell Blaise that he had to gloat, but he continued walking to his dorm. When he went inside, Granger was still asleep on the couch. He sauntered over to her and shook her shoulder. He jumped back when her only response was a satisfied sigh.

"What the _fuck,_ Granger!" Draco screamed, and Granger pulled herself into a sitting position, rubbing her eyes, and looking at Malfoy with a venom.

" _What_?!" She stood up, fuming.

"You didn't do _any_ of the work!" He yelled, ignoring the other reason, which was that _sigh_. He shuddered.

She looked around her surroundings only to find that the paperwork was gone.

"I only closed my eyes for a sec—" she tried to speak, but Draco didn't let her, drifting closer to her.

"Obviously you closed your eyes for more than a fucking second!"

"You mean you did _my_ work?!" She pointed a finger at him accusingly, standing up.

"Only because you didn't do it yourself!"

"You ignorant ass! That wasn't your job!"

He flared his nostrils.

"Be fucking grateful I got it done," Draco spat the words in her face.

"I don't thank _death eaters_!" She yelled, and Malfoy snapped.

"Fuck off, mudblood!" He sneered at her, and she looked at him in shock.

She slapped him. And then she slapped him again. And again. Draco grabbed her wrists before she could do it again, and pinned her to the wall.

"You think because you're the Gryffindor princess, that you can say whatever the fuck you want?!" He tightened his grip when she struggled. "You think just because the war is over, or that I didn't fight against you that I don't still hate your kind?!"

"No!" She squirmed in his hold. He was too close. "I knew you were still the same ignorant, discriminating excuse of a person!"

Draco released her from his grip and stormed away. Slamming himself into his room, and putting up locking and silencing charms.

And then, he screamed. He just screamed. And then he was throwing his trunk across the room, and ripping his bed spreading. He punched the wall until his hand was worn and raw, and slid to the floor.

Draco had slipped. He hadn't even known that he still believed that stuff until he had said it. Blame it on muscle memory, but he knew it was something more.

He was suffocating in here with her. With the _mudblood_. He almost threw up at the word, but he swallowed it down, and scowled. If she wanted him to call her a fucking mudblood, then she would get exactly that.

He sat there fuming, for about another hour, before standing up and restoring his room. He didn't even think about transfiguring his bed into a couch, and laid down, knowing he wouldn't get a wink of sleep there, but not ready for another match of wits with Granger.

The one thing that boiled his blood though, was that she had been right. He was a death eater. And Voldemort or no Voldemort, he was the same person he had always been.

.

—

.

Hermione leaned against the wall, still reeling from her argument with a certain Slytherin. She had known that this was bound to happen sooner or later, and she had provoked him, but his utterance of that word filled her with a cracked fire that she hadn't felt in a long time. She really, truly hated him. Even more so now, if that was even possible.

That was enough. She needed some air.

Hermione climbed out of the room, and closed the portrait behind her, only now realizing that it was dark out. She didn't care though. She would go anywhere to get away from _him_. She ran, not bothering to light her wand, and almost tripping on her feet every couple of seconds. She didn't even know where she was going, until she reached the top of the stairs.

She looked around, the wooden floors creaking as she walked closer to the balcony. She let the air brush past her face, and looked around the almost pitch black night, only the faint glow of Hagrid's hut lighting the sky.

This was where it had all happened. This was where Malfoy almost killed Dumbledore, and Snape finished the job. Where Harry stood by defenseless as he watched his mentor fall in a graceless heap. Where the war had truly, truly begun.

 _The astronomy tower._

As a kid, Hermione had secretly adored astronomy. So full of possibilities and life. That people would connect the stars in the sky to make this art that eventually everyone around the world would see. She loved it. But now, standing on top of the place where everything had started, and looking down at the destruction...there was nothing she hated more.

The uncertain had become this monster, always hiding, always threatening to take over the second they turned away. For all that Hermione had studied, she felt as if she knew nothing. Ron and Harry had left, and for once, she was without them.

It was completely striking, the effect it was starting to have on her. They rarely wrote anymore, and Hermione craved for Harry's loopy writing, and Ron's crammed penmanship. Just a hello would've been nice. But now, things were different. They were aurors, and she was still at school. They had left her behind, like she was a third wheel. She felt like deadweight.

And classes were starting the next day. What was she going to do, when the classes would be a mixture of new classmates, and old classmates. Some of the 6th years, including Ginny, would be 7th years, instead of retaking their last year. And Hermione wasn't even sure of her own academic abilities anymore.

No matter how often she practiced, she felt like it wasn't enough. That it would never be enough. Not after everything that they had been through.

"Godric help me," she whispered, leaning on the rail, and closing her eyes. And she drifted off to sleep, letting her dreams carry her away from reality.

.

.

A/N: Ok, Ok, I know this is shorter than the last one, but I've had such a hectic week, and I promise that this short chapter will be worth it in the long run. Draco is struggling with his beliefs, and Hermione is trying to adapt to being alone. Also, if you guys want me to start doing song recs, let me know and I'll see what songs fit with the chapters. Just going to reinstate that I'm so grateful for you guys. :)


	3. Cocoa

Disclaimer: Nope, still not rich. Nope, still not successful… thanks for reminding me.

Yup language...let's goooo!

 **Chapter 3: Cocoa**

.

* * *

.

Draco peeled his eyes open as the first rays of morning light hit his eyes. He scowled in irritation and

moved to the edge of the bed. He had actually gotten a good night's sleep last night. In an actual bed. And the fucking sun had to come and interrupt his peace.

He stood up and looked through the window, letting the sun hit his nude self. He had decided to sleep naked, when his third cooling charm had failed, and he was drenched in sweat. He heard Granger leave after his outburst and didn't hear her return. Maybe that's why he had a full sleep.

He wondered if she had come back in the late hours of the night, but thought against it when he realized her heavy footfalls probably would've woken him up.

The warm September sun heated his chest, and he reluctantly stepped out of the light of the window, drifting to the bathroom and locking himself in.

It was just now, that he noticed the slight femininity to the room. It was mostly the aroma. It mixed with the masculine scents that he secreted and he hated what that implied. Granger's scent was vanilla mingled with cinnamon. Figures, her scent was exactly like her personality; plain, and slightly annoying if taken too frequently.

He wanted to change the scent of the room with his wand, but decided not to, because it would only hold for a little. Instead, he took this opportunity to put an enlargement charm on the shower, cleaning it thoroughly with his wand before he stepped in.

His hand immediately stung, and he looked down at it. It was bruised and swollen, probably because late in the night he had taken up punching the wall repeatedly.

The cinnamon smell enveloped him, and he couldn't help but let his mind drift to Granger. Their _encounter_. He still had no idea what the fuck that had meant.

And the sound of her _sigh_. What had that even been about? And why was Draco so bothered by it? He didn't know. But, it's what fueled his rage and led him to snap.

Only a week in this hellhole and already they had both snapped. Draco wondered what that was going to mean for the rest of the year. Maybe it meant that they would both lose it in a matter of months, and maybe it meant they already had. Whatever the case, Draco wasn't too stoked to find out.

He was already in a war with himself; constantly wondering where the line was between what he believed and what he had been told to believe. His main role model in life had been his father, and he wanted so desperately to separate himself from that decaying, disgusting waste of a person.

Lucius Malfoy, Draco's father, was in Azkaban, hopefully rotting in his cell, and Draco couldn't bring himself to visit him.

All of the pressure was off. He didn't have any familial obligations. He didn't have to make his awful father proud anymore, and it was like a weight had been lifted off his chest. Like for his entire life, he had been struggling to breathe, slowly losing the capability, and now breath came fine.

At the same time, there had never been more pressure. Now he had to figure out if what he thought to be true his entire life, was really bull. Granger was the only muggleborn he really _knew_ , if you could count their hateful arguments as getting to know each other. Draco wasn't oblivious. He knew that Granger was smart. She had been at the bloody top of their classes since first year. He wasn't going to deny that she was skilled in magic, and that it probably wasn't just about luck. But Granger got under his skin.

She clawed at his skin, and pulled his bones away until he was nothing but a death mark. And he truly hated her for that, because it was the truth. Because even though he didn't kill Dumbledore, and didn't want to be on Voldemort's side of the war, and hated that Mark and everything it represented...he was that mark.

He knew he was a coward. He knew that maybe if he had said no to being a death eater, Voldemort would've killed him, and his misery would've been over by now. He wouldn't have to choose between being evil and good, because he'd be gone, most likely rotting in hell for the things he had done. And so he asked himself this question again.

Did he _really_ think muggleborns were inferior?

And this time, his answer leaned more to the right side. The _good_ side.

.

* * *

.

The next time Hermione opened her eyes, it was when the first signs of sunlight were peaking in. She squinted her eyes, and sat up, realizing from the stiffness in her back that she had fallen asleep on the floor of the astronomy tower. Figures, she could fall asleep in this god awful place, but not a bed.

She jumped up, remembering that classes were starting today. She didn't have a clock on her, but judging from the position of the sun, it was about 9:00. Classes started in 30 minutes. She was going to be late!

She rushed back to the dorm as quick as possible, and ran to her room, finding her robes and laying them to the side. She was pleased to see that Draco had already left, and walked into the bathroom. She raised her eyebrows when she realized that it smelled like him. She hadn't even realized that she knew his scent until now, but she did. It was like wood, but with a hint of green apples.

She ignored it and stepped into the shower, expecting it to be cramped, but opening her eyes to see that it was enlargened. _Stupid Malfoy,_ she thought. _He can't even deal with having a normal sized shower, that arrogant, chauvinistic, prat._

Once she was finished cleaning herself, she walked to the mirror, and looked at herself. _Really_ looked at herself for the first time in months. She was pale, to say the least, with freckles lining her shoulders. Her mudblood marking stood out like an ugly duckling on her arm, branding her, and she wished to god it would go away.

It wasn't that she was actually offended by the term, she just hated the permanent reminder of her 'stay' at the Malfoy manor. Just another reason to hate Malfoy, right?

The only thing was, she didn't know who he was anymore, not that she really did before. She had just always known him as the prejudiced bully, but now the war was over. And his refusal to call her a mudblood, up until she provoked him, made her question if he was really prejudiced. Somehow, she thought that maybe his beliefs were slipping. She wasn't sure how she felt about that.

On one hand, everybody deserves a second chance. Especially after all of the torture that everybody had been subjected to in the war. Even Snape had sought for redemption before he died.

On the other hand, this was _Draco Malfoy._ He had spent 7 years of his life, treating Hermione like shit. And after all of the changes after the war, Hermione almost hoped that he would stay the same. _Almost_. But she didn't take happiness out of her own humiliation or negative feelings directed towards her.

She walked into her room, in a towel, realizing that she was probably even more late. She checked the clock. It read _9:41._

 _Bugger_

 _._

* * *

 _._

Draco tapped his foot impatiently, under the table, as he listened to Professor Slughorn drone on and on about potion safety. Granger was 11 minutes late and counting. He had originally hoped he could get through the day without seeing his roommate, but of course as luck would have it, their schedules were almost exactly the same. Another genius idea of McGonagall's to make it easier for them to communicate.

His beliefs were crashing, and he didn't need any other contributing factors adding to his confusion.

So, when Malfoy walked into his potions class, and found his name on the board next to Granger's, he cursed under his breath. And now, Granger was late. _fucking_ late! Wasn't she supposed to be prompt? He couldn't remember a time when she was late for anything, and now she was 11 minutes late.

He glanced at the clock.

Actually, 12 minutes now.

Draco looked around. The classroom was almost empty, only a few students had qualified for this advanced class. He saw that that loony lovegood girl was there, and Neville bigbottoms, and observed them from afar. That sat next to each other, and he silently realized that they were together.

At first, it hadn't seemed like it, but anybody who watched close enough could tell. From the stolen glances, and the fact that they were holding hands beneath the table. Draco wanted to sneer at them in disgust, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. They just looked too happy. He looked at the time.

13 minutes late.

Then 14.

Draco glanced at his hand again. He hadn't even attempted to hide the marks caused by his walls, and people were giving him weird looks for it. Like he was still a death eater, and he had just gotten back from beating someone who didn't agree with Voldemort's ways until he bled out. He probably should've thought about that before he didn't heal himself. He looked at the time again.

15 minutes late.

Then 16.

17.

18.

"Mr. Malfoy," Slughorn broke him out of his daze. "You ok there?" There was no strictness in the professor's voice, only concern.

"Um…" Draco started to speak, but was interrupted by the sound of the door slamming open and somebody falling to the floor. He turned in his seat, and had to hold in his mocking laugh at the sight of Granger sprawled across the floor.

She scrambled to get up, and Draco turned back to the front of the room, forcing a nonchalant expression onto his face. He was going to try to be civil...sort of.

"Professor Slughorn," he heard her say, assuming she had gotten up by then. "I'm _so_ sorry that I'm late."

"Oh, it's no problem," the professor replied, casually. "We were just going over safety rules, and I'm sure you already know those."

"Of course, Professor."

"Well, let's not dwell on your lateness." Professor Slughorn walked to the front of the room again. "Take a seat next to your partner."

Hermione sat on the right side of him, and he felt her sigh. He had decided at this point, that he hated her sighs. He looked at her from the corner of his eye.

She looked to be in a state of distress. Her hair was messy, not that it wasn't always, but it looked rushed. And her uniform was put on slightly wonky. Her vest was even put on wrong causing Hermione's skin to show more when she shifted.

" _What?_ " She bit out, irritatedly, and Draco forced his eyes away. Now he was just angry. She showed up late, not even dressed decently, and had the decency to ask him why he was looking at her weird?

"You look like a _fucking_ mess," he retorted under his breath, keeping his eyes focused on the Professor in front of them. _Well, there goes being civil._ He ignored Granger's curious eyes, as they settled on his bruised hand.

"Shut it Malfoy," she whispered back, and shifted in her seat again. _Why couldn't she just sit still_?

He slightly shook his head, refocusing his eyes on the Professor, realizing he had probably zoned out for too long.

"So," the professor said. "We'll simply start with brewing an elixir to induce euphoria to warm up your wits. Go ahead and take out your ingredients and begin. I expect this finished by the end of class." 30 minutes. That was almost cutting it close.

He saw that Hermione was about to get up to get them, and stopped her with his hand.

"I'll get them." He stood up, ignoring her frustrated glare, and picked up what he needed from the shelves.

The potion called for shrivelfig, porcupine quills, peppermint sprigs, sopophorous beans, and wormwood. When Draco got back to the table, Hermione practically ripped the ingredients out of his hands agitatedly, before setting them on the table. She had already set out her cauldron and put it on a simmer. He put the peppermint sprigs in, and waited for the potion to turn red, but before he could put the shrivelfig in, Granger had beaten him to the punch.

She still hadn't looked at him, in the time that she had been in the classroom and he wondered why. Maybe it was because he had called her a mudblood not 12 hours before. He pondered maybe regretting it, but this behavior was normal. He was the only one making it weird, by thinking about it.

Hermione stirred the potion until it turned blue, and they both waited for the potion to simmer until it turned yellow. It was a bit peculiar how well they worked together, but Draco blamed that on their similar academic skills. They worked in turns, she did a portion with one ingredient, and he did the next. They had an unspoken agreement.

When they were on the last step, Hermione added the shrivelfig and they watched as the potion turned yellow. Draco binded the potion with a cheering charm and poured it in a vial. Professor Slughorn immediately walked over to them.

He picked up the vial and sniffed at it, holding it up the sun, and watching as a rainbow emitted from it. He smiled, and said, "Well done, Mr. Malfoy, and Ms. Granger."

Draco smirked to himself. He had never gotten much of a chance to show his potion skills the last 2 years, because he was focused on...other things. His smirk faded.

Before he could think back to his past, the noise signifying that that period was over, stopped him, and he headed out of the door, right behind Hermione. He tried to keep his distance from the irritating Gryffindor, but his legs were longer than hers, and they were going to the same place. Eventually, they were awkwardly walking next to each other.

"What are you doing?" She picked up her pace, clearly bothered by their close proximity.

"Are you blind, Granger?" He picked up his pace as well, annoyed by her question. As if he would be following _her._

"Well," Hermione walked even faster. "I must have a seeing problem if I'm seeing you walk next to me."

He stopped her, pulling her arm, and turning her towards him angrily.

"What's your problem?" He spat out, scowling. "Wake up on the wrong side of the bed, Granger?" Her eyes darkened at that comment. Apparently, he didn't realize that she hadn't even slept on a bed, and her back was killing her.

" _You_ are my problem." She shoved him off her, and he stumbled.

"And what have I done?" He questioned, honestly curious with her mood.

"You mean besides being cruel to me and my friends every single day for the last 7 years?!" She yelled, not aware of the crowd gathering around them in the hall. "Besides becoming a death eater?!"

"But I'm not a death eater." Malfoy kept his voice even. "And I know that before and during the war I did terrible things, but so many other people did and I don't see you incriminating them, or," And he lowered his voice so that she could only hear. "Telling them to call you offensive terms."

"Well, I don't see the problem when you don't care if they're offensive or not." Hermione started to get self-conscious, shifting her eyes to everyone, but keeping her stance.

"I never said that I didn't care if they were offensive," Draco said quickly, and immediately wished he could take it back, because of the confusion slotted in her eyes, and her faltered anger.

"Do you?" She asked, and she looked impatient. Like waiting for his answer was killing her. But before he could even say something in response, the bell signaling the next class had begun rang, and they were racing there.

Draco sighed in relief. He didn't know what he would've said if he hadn't been interrupted.

.

* * *

.

Hermione's entire morning had been completely compiled with confusion. First, she was late to class for the first time in...ever. Then, she had had that mindfucking—yes she used that word—argument with Malfoy. Maybe she was over analyzing it. Maybe she was overthinking every single thing that he did and mistaking it for something else. But that was who she was.

She always gave people second chances. She truly believed that Malfoy wasn't evil, but he was still cruel. Did he even put emphasis behind the dirty word he had used when he had snapped? She didn't know.

And then, after potions, he had kind of said that he didn't believe all of that nonsense anymore...right? Although he never did get the chance to answer her question before they had to move on to their next class. And it was bothering her immensely. It had caused her to take up her old habit, biting her lip until it bruised.

She had done that a lot during the war. So much so, that some days she would unconsciously bite her lip, and wince, not even remembering that she had a bruise there. And other times, she would just taste the blood, and look around, wondering if anybody noticed. Of course, nobody had. They could care less about her quirks, all they wanted to hear about were her 'heroic quests'.

That thought brought her back to the subject of Malfoy. Only she didn't want to think about Malfoy. Her mind was full, between all of the Head work, and school work, and training. So, for the first time ever, she took a break. It was free period, so she had about 30 minutes before she had to go to herbology. She realized that she hadn't even been down to see Hagrid yet.

She quickly exited the library which she sat in, and walked outside. She let the wind hit her face, a slight chill reaching up her arms, causing her to instinctively cross her arms. She had fixed her uniform in between periods, after people kept giving her weird glances. Though, that may have been because of her choice encounter with a certain pale wizard.

 _No,_ she scolded herself. _No thoughts of Malfoy_.

She walked down the cobblestone path, quick as possible, hoping that Hagrid would answer the door quickly. He thankfully swung the door open soon as she knocked, and grinned as he saw the shivering Gryffindor.

"Mione," he exclaimed, opening his door for her. "Come on in."

She walked inside, and looked around. Hagrid's hut was homey as ever, tea already set out on the table, and Fang sitting nearby.

"Tea?" he asked, and Hermione nodded her head, taking a seat across from Hagrid and managing a small smile. He poured her a cup, and himself one, and she picked it up, taking a small sip. "Some' in on yer mind 'Mione?"

"Um…" Hermione thought of the hallway. She couldn't lie to Hagrid. "Sort of, yeah."

"What is it?" He tentatively took a sip of his tea.

She shook her head.

"How do you forgive someone who has hurt you?"

She hadn't meant to ask it. No, this trip was meant purely to distract her from the multiple questions that had been in the corners of her mind. But there it was. She wasn't even sure why.

"Depends on who did, and how," Hagrid responded, honestly. "But, no matter what, yer the brightest witch I know. You'll figure it out. Just keep yer mind open."

"Thanks, Hagrid." Hermione had a smile on her face, but was still troubled. "I should get going. I have Herbology soon."

She got up, and hugged Hagrid before leaving. She wished that his advice would help her. She longed for the days that anything Hagrid could say would make her feel better, but maybe she was just too ruined. Maybe her mind was too disconnected. Maybe she was going insane.

After everything; after all of the torture, after the war, the death eaters, S.P.E.W, Voldemort, Snatchers, Fred dying, Tonks dying, Remus dying, everyone dying...how could Hermione blame anyone for anything that happened? How could she dwell on any of that? Why couldn't she just get over it?

She just wanted all of this to be over. She wanted her years at Hogwarts to end, she wanted to be back with Harry, and Ron. She wanted them to write to her again, and it made her so furious that they wouldn't. It was like all of the years that she was with them didn't matter anymore. It irked her so much, that apparently she wasn't important enough to them.

On a rash decision, she ran all the way to the owlery, found a piece of paper, ink, and quill, and started writing.

 _Harry, Ron,_

 _I bet you're very busy with your auror business. Frankly, right now, I couldn't give a flying fuck, and yes I do mean fuck. I miss you guys, and maybe you would know that if you bothered to ever write me. You're supposed to be like my brother. Well if this is how you treat siblings, then I'm glad that I'm an only child. Now write me back before I get really worried and come find you guys._

 _Love, Hermione_

When she was done writing her message, she found a random owl, and tied the letter to it's leg.

"Find the two stupid halves of the golden trio." She released the owl.

When she was done with her fit of rage, she realized that if she didn't leave now, she'd be late to Herbology. And she could not handle being late again. She ran all the way down to the greenhouse, and managed to sneak her way in, before the class started.

This was, the only class that her and Malfoy didn't have in common, and she thanked God for that. She didn't thank God, when the class ended all too soon, and it was time for lunch in the Great Hall.

She sat at the corner of the Gryffindor table, completely alone, and immersed in a training book that rested on her lap under the table. When she had first gotten to the hall, she had noticed that a lot of people were sitting at other houses' tables. She guessed that was a good thing, you know, inter-house unity and all, but for her it just felt very strange. She snapped her head up, when Luna and Neville sat across from her, and Ginny beside her.

"Oh my gosh, Hermione," Ginny shook her head disapprovingly. "You can't even eat before sticking your nose in a book?" She snatched the book away from Hermione before she could protest, but all playful manner left her face, when she realized what Hermione had been reading.

"What is this?" she asked, suspicion dotting her face. Hermione grabbed the book back, and shoved it in her bag.

"Nothing," She said, quickly filling up her plate, but Ginny wasn't done.

"Hermione—" she warned, but Hermione stopped her.

"It's just interesting magic methods...For fun."

"Ohhhh." Ginny's suspicion left her face, as she eased into a more comfortable expression.

"How are you, Hermione?" Neville asked, politely, leaning closer to Luna, as she looked away dazedly.

"I'm good Neville." She smiled. "And you?"

He looked over at Luna, smiling in admiration.

"Perfect."

Luna looked over at Neville, and then focused on Hermione.

"What's wrong, Hermione?" she asked, same dazed expression on her face. "You seem to be in a state of trouble."

"Oh, no." Hermione shook her head. Why did Luna always have the ability to see right through everybody?

"Oh, then maybe it's the cold that's making you flushed. You should see a doctor about that." And then Luna went back to looking at all corners of the room.

"Sooooo, Hermione," Ginny started, grinning in a way that made Hermione very concerned. "What do you think about joining the quidditch team this year?"

"Absolutely not."

"But—"

"Nope."

"I—"

"Not happening."

"Ugh," Ginny sighed in resignation. "You're no fun."

"I have no interest in playing a sport," Hermione repeated for what seemed like the millionth time in years. Ever since Ginny had become the team captain, she kept trying to get Hermione to try out. And tryouts were the next day. Hermione wasn't even going to set foot on that dirty field.

"Your loss." Ginny shrugged. "Gryffindor's team is definitely the best this year, especially since I don't think the ferret over there is going to be playing."

"Why not?" Hermione asked curiously, glancing over at the Slytherin table and scanning for Malfoy. When she found him, his eyes hit hers, and she immediately looked away.

Ginny looked at Hermione like it was obvious, and then sighed when Hermione still didn't get it.

"Do you really think he wants all eyes on him?"

"I mean…" Hermione thought about it. "I don't know. I don't really know him."

"Yeah you do," Ginny countered. "You've been going to the same school for like 7 years."

"You know what I mean."

"Do I?

"Yes," Hermione said. "I only know basic surface facts, and even that's confusing."

Ginny looked at her in a weird way, and paused.

"What?" Hermione asked.

"I heard that you and him were fighting in the corridor this morning." Ginny narrowed her eyes, and Hermione was reminded that her outburst, was not so private. "What was it about?"

"I—" Hermione stuttered. She wasn't even sure what they had been fighting about. His calling her a Mudblood? Him bullying her for 7 years? Her judging him? She honestly wasn't sure. "Nothing important." She didn't realize the look that Ginny was giving her until she looked at her. Ginny looked mad.

"You're not even going to tell me?"

"I don't really know what we were fighting about," Hermione answered honestly. "It's just what we do. We fight."

"Oh." Ginny nodded her head. "Right, how could I forget? Anyway, I've got to get going. Team captain business and all that."

"Ok," said Hermione, waving to a standing Ginny. "See you later."

She looked over to Neville and Luna. They probably didn't even hear her conversation with Ginny—so wrapped up in each other. Hermione looked back to the Slytherin table. Malfoy wasn't there anymore. She grabbed her back and stood up.

"Where are you going, Hermione?" Neville asked her.

"To study," she lied, and walked away. She had to find Malfoy. She was so sick and tired of them going around in circles and snapping at each other. She just wanted to limit all possible interaction between them. She walked back to the dorm, looking for him the whole way there, and was for the first time, glad to see him in a place where she was headed.

He had been sitting on the couch again, and jumped up when she came back into the room.

"Fuck, Granger," he cursed. "Do you have to do that?"

Hermione was about to fire back an insult, but remembered why she was here.

"Shut up, Malfoy. We need to have a discussion." She sat down in the armchair across from the couch, and Draco settled back into his seat.

"What about?" He asked, narrowing his eyes at her in confusion.

"Hold on." She got up from her seat and walked to the kitchen. She got out two mugs, and found her container of her favorite hot cocoa mix. If she was going to have a civil conversation with _him_ , she was going to need to be calm as can be.

"What are you doing?" Malfoy asked from his position on the couch.

"Making cocoa," she replied, casually, and felt the strange glare on her as she moved to get the milk. Everyone with half a brain knew that Cocoa was better with milk than with water.

"What the fuck?" he muttered under his breath, but loud enough for Granger to hear. She ignored it, and made the cocoa quickly, using her own microwave to heat up the cups, instead of her wand. She guessed she was just used to doing it the muggle way. When she was done, she sat one of the cups on the coffee table, and took one for herself, settling back in the armchair and addressing the weird look that Malfoy was currently giving her.

"Well?" she asked expectantly, and he drew his eyebrows together, confused.

"What?"

"Are you going to drink the cocoa?"

"No," he answered immediately. "Knowing you, I bet you poisoned it."

Granger chuckled, surprising Draco.

"Are you going to tell me what this is about?" he didn't like the casual manner that she was putting off.

"Right, yes." Hermione took a sip of her hot cocoa. "We need to be civil."

He looked at her weird again. This had not been what he was expecting.

"What?"

"Look," she got serious now. "I still don't trust you. And I certainly don't want to be your friend, but we're stuck in this dorm together, and we're both heads. So we have to be civil. That means, no more me calling you a death eater, no more you calling me a…" she paused. "Mudblood."

"I only called you that once," Draco spit out irritatedly. "And as I recall, you provoked me."

Hermione was about to object, but clamped her mouth shut when she remembered that he was right. It was usually her who had caused both of them to snap.

"You're right," she responded, much to Malfoy's surprise. "And that can't happen anymore. Obviously, we're still going to argue. I still hate you, but we can't argue about war things."

"Ok," Draco nodded his head reluctantly, and finally gave in to the urge to try the cocoa. It was delicious, and a satisfied hum vibrated at the back of his mouth. He hoped that Granger hadn't heard it.

"So, we're clear?" she asked, taking a sip of her own cocoa, and Draco nodded.

"We're clear." He drank his cocoa until it was all gone, and realized that she had done it the muggle way. And it still tasted better than any wizard cocoa that he had ever had. Draco felt Hermione's uneasy glare on Draco, and snapped his eyes to hers. He realized now, in this light, that her eyes weren't just brown. They were swirls of different shades. Copper, coffee, chocolate. Like a canvas. And then he looked at her nose; sprinkled with freckles that made her all the more attractive. _Attractive?_ He mentally slapped himself, and stopped himself before he could go onto her lips. "What is it, Granger. You're practically boring your eyes into my skull.

She whispered something that he couldn't quite hear, and told her to speak up.

"I can only sleep on couches," was her hushed confession, and Draco's eyes widened. He took out her wand and transfigured her arm chair into a couch also, covering the fireplace.

"Me too, Granger." They looked at each other, strangely for a couple of minutes, but between the cocoa, and the long mornings they had both had, they were asleep soon enough. Parallel to each other, dreaming of a world far better than their own. And when they awoke, it was to screams.

.

* * *

.

A/N: Ok, guys, I realize that you all must think I'm a horrible person. I made you wait so long for this chapter, but it's finally to the exact amount of pages that I want it to be. Factor that in with the fact that testing just started, I'm trying to get accepted into a number of programs, and other things, there's still no excuse. I really hope you guys liked this chapter, and obviously the next one is going to be an interesting one. This is where it kicks off.


	4. Blood

A/N: Ok, I know, I know. I've been gone for more than a month. Please don't kill me, I was in the bahamas… no that's a lie. Honestly, my procrastination has gotten the best of me and I've had a weird few weeks. I lost my confidence for a while after I didn't get into this leadership program that I had been preparing for for 4 years, and kept having panic attacks all over the place. But now, I'm in a much better place, and I feel better. Enjoy, if you want, I can't force you to. I'm not Hitler

Disclaimer: They see me J.K Rowling, they hatin, because I'm not actually her…

Yup Language...Here we goooooo!

* * *

Chapter 4: Blood

 _Blood_. That was the first thing that Hermione saw. Tons and tons of blood. She skidded into the great hall, only to slip and fall into something that was too thin to be oil, and too thick to be water. The smell was the first thing that gave it away; the metallic pang with the essense of death enveloped her, and spreaded around her. The next thing, was the color. It was everywhere. On her clothes, in her eyes...just this distinct crimson that blocked everything else out. And then someone was pulling her out of it, and to the side, quickly releasing her and disappearing into what seemed like a never ending crowd.

But the worst came next, when she cleared her eyes, and looked up at what had been causing the screams. Bile reached up her throat, and she clenched her fists, forcing it down. Hannah Abbott laid across the floor, completely dismembered. And Hermione was drenched in her blood.

Her hands shook, as she looked down at them. The vision was sickening; her with blood on her hands as somebody lay dead. And Harry and Ron stood above her, looking as if they were checking for wand traces, before they saw Hermione. She froze as their faces met hers. She could hardly go and hug them then. But they gave her a look, that said, _later_ , and _go._

She didn't go. She didn't run, even though her limbs screamed at her to. Even though her eyes stung to hold in her tears, and her lip started to bruise from the pressure of her teeth. She started walking forward against her own consent. She moved around the blood carefully, and slowly got to the body, rousing hushed gasps from the crowd.

Now that she was closer, she could tell that Harry's hair was longer and scruffier than it used to be, and she wondered where Ginny was, and how she would react to Harry being back there. But now wasn't the time for that.

"Harry, Ron, what's going on?" She asked, looking at both of them, concernedly.

"That's what we're trying to figure out," Harry pulled out a cellular device and took pictures of the corpse, cringing, and moving on quickly. Harry had told Hermione when they had brought technology to the ministry, but it still shocked her.

"We don't know what happened," Ron started, and Hermione looked at him. His hair was long now too, she realized, and he had grown a beard. He didn't look up at her. "We just got an owl from Ms. McGonagall to come to the school immediately, and that there's been a death. Once we finish gathering clues from here, we're going to set up in the room of requirement to sort through them."

"Could I go with you guys?" Hermione immediately asked, and both Harry and Ron stopped in their tracks, looking up at her surprisedly. As if they were hesitant to let her help, even though she was the most clever out of the three of them.

"Yeah," Harry said, and went back to what he was doing.

Hermione stood there, feeling completely out of place. Harry and Ron worked as a team. It was clear that they had become accustomed to it just being the two of them. And in that moment, Hermione felt the farthest that she had ever felt from them. They would never get back to where they used to be. They finished up, and were just about to leave, walking through the crowd and out of the great hall, feeling eyes on them the entire time. Once they got to the room of requirement though, Ron turned to her, and said, "Maybe you should take a shower first, 'Mione."

She looked down at herself. She had almost forgotten about the blood, and simply pulled out her wand, casting a charm that removed the blood from her, and sent it straight to a vial in her hand. Ron still looked a little uncomfortable, but Hermione supposed that wasn't all because of the blood.

They stepped around the room, finding that, just like always, it had adapted to their needs. A simple table sat in the middle of the room, and a corkboard hung on the wall. It was a small room, but then again, there wasn't a lot for the room to provide.

Hermione set down the vial, and said, "Shall we get into this?"

Harry and Ron both nod, and they sit down—Harry next to Hermione and Ron across from them. She was ready to lead the conversation, being so used to it, but Harry had already started.

"So, we know some factors that might be a motive for a death eater based group that we've been working on tracking down for the past couple of months." Hermione looked at him, surprised at this new information. "They call themselves the slashers, and they essentially kill people by, well slashing them. The motive is clear, as Hannah Abbott was a member of Dumbledore's army, and was a half-blood. We just have to send this evidence over to the auror quartent of the ministry, and then Ron and I will continue to research them there, and eventually track them down, ending the slashing."

Hermione was confused. Why hadn't Harry ever mentioned the slashers? And how was he being so unemotional about Hannah Abbott's death?

"We'll also have to discuss new security measures for Hogwarts, as they clearly found their way in."

"So then we're here for nothing?" Hermione questioned, trying to keep herself in check.

"Well, Hermione, we're here to gather our bearings."

"What bearings?" She squinted her eyes, and looked between both of them. She knew them well enough to know that something more was going on. Or at least she hoped she did. "You two don't look upset at all, so why are we really here?"

Harry sighed, and complied.

"We want to talk to you."

"About?"

"Your letter," Ron spoke next, and Hermione looked at him. He was staring at his lap, and it was irritating Hermione. And then Ron paused, and continued looking at his lap, before carefully formulating his next words. "If we made you feel discluded, he didn't mean to 'Mione...We just have a lot on our plates, and are really busy with this auror business. I mean, Hannah Abbott just died."

"Right," Hermione shook her head. She was a bit fuzzy on the contents of her letter to them, but she was quite certain that it had probably contained one too many profanities. She couldn't talk about how angry she was with them then though. Hannah was dead, and that was all that Hermione should've been focusing on. Not the burning desire in her lungs to just scream, but finding out who killed Hannah Abbott. She just needed to get away from them. "That letter, was just the remnants of some firewhiskey that I had." A lie, obviously. She almost hoped that they would be able to tell, but they weren't. Or at least they acted like it.

"Oh, ok. Thank godric, because we would hate for you to be mad at us," Harry said, as they all stood up. "I guess this is goodbye for now then."

"Right," Hermione replied, but she felt awkward. And then she realized that any hug they could give her at that moment, wouldn't be comforting at all. So she turned away, and mumbled a quick goodbye before stumbling out of the door.

What was happening? The war had just ended, and now somebody was being murdered again. And Harry and Ron had known about the group that had done it. The slashers. It didn't sound right to Hermione. It sounded fake; like some useless cover up for something that was actually real. And she hated that. She just wanted it to end.

Hermione was passing by the Great Hall again, and paused. She peeked in from behind the door. The body was gone, and there was no trace of it ever being there. Nobody else was there either, despite it being lunchtime. God, how could this happen? Hermione had always seen the daytime as some kind of shield. Bad things don't matter as long as the sun is still shining right?

She turned her head away, not being able to look there anymore, and headed back to the dorm. She wasn't all too surprised to see Malfoy sitting on the couch again staring at the fire. Except he wasn't, because now there was another couch blocking it.

He didn't even look up at her. Just muttered, "Rest of classes cancelled today." And Hermione padded to her room as slow as her hammering heart would let her.

Once inside, she used locking and silencing charms, making sure that Malfoy wouldn't hear as tears betrayed her eyelids and splashed down her face.

She hadn't even known Hannah Abbott that well. They were acquaintances at best, and Hermione wished that they could've held a conversation when she was alive. Which she certainly wasn't. She was dead. _Dead._ And Hermione had been napping straight across from her enemy.

Why did she let herself fall asleep?

And how could she have possibly drifted off while sat across from Malfoy?

Maybe it was because for once, they weren't screaming each other's heads off. Because he had agreed not to call her a Mudblood quicker than she thought possible. And he had drinken her cocoa. She didn't know why, but that was what surprised her the most.

So, she had slept while someone she should've known better had gotten 'slashed' to death. And she hated herself for it.

* * *

"Do you think we should've talked more with Hermione?" Harry asked from his desk, watching Ron warily. They had left the school in such a rush that Harry hadn't even had a chance to say hello to Ginny. And he missed her terribly.

"What do you mean?" Ron looked at him, confusedly, mouth full. They were on their lunch break.

"It's just…" Harry hesitated. Hermione had been a hard topic for Ron, ever since they had broken up. And they had only dated for a month, but Ron was still in love with her, or so he thought. "She seemed upset."

"Well, Hannah Abbott just died."

"Yeah, I know, but it seemed like more than that." Harry shook his head. "Maybe she really did mean what she said in her letter?"

"You mean her mean letter?" Ron asked, scowling. _Yup, it was a bad idea to bring up Hermione_.

"It wasn't mean."

Ron looked outraged, which meant he was going to keep talking while he ate. Which meant food would be flying at Harry's face.

"She said she couldn't give a flying fuck if we were busy!"

"Because she misses us," Harry reasoned, and went over what he was going to say next. Maybe he shouldn't. No, he had to. "Do you think...you're only mad...because she called us her brothers?"

Ron scoffed, but the emotion was clear on his face.

"Do you think that's actually how she feels about me?" Ron asked, dreading the answer.

"I don't know," Harry immediately responded. And he really didn't. He had seen Ron and Hermione, and he truly hoped that they would get back together. It would certainly make things less awkward. But, he knew Hermione, and if she had broken up with Ron, it was because she truly felt like they weren't capable of a relationship.

Ron sighed, and said, "I hope not."

Harry looked up at the clock.

"Time to get back to work."

* * *

Hermione was running again. To the great hall. To the screams. And to the blood. She slipped, only this time it was into oil. She slid all the way to the front of the hall, and was set face to face with Harry. Only it wasn't Harry; not really. He was frozen—covered in some dark green pigment, and blood was pouring out of his eyes. Hermione started to vomit, falling over all over again, and then dirt was covering her face.

She was being buried alive. She screamed. Yelled for help; for Harry, for Ron, for anyone.

"Granger," the voices said. She kept drowning in dirt. "Granger." she felt a shaking on her shoulder.

"GRANGER WAKE THE FUCK UP!" Draco's screaming voice brought Hermione crashing back to reality, and she launched up; bumping her head into his. He winced, and pulled back, but kept his face slightly too close to hers. His arms were still on her shoulders, and there was something in his silver eyes that Hermione couldn't quite read. _Concern? No. Confusion._

"What happened?" Hermione asked, as the sunlight creeped into her still reacting eyelids.

"You were screaming out a bunch of names," Draco told her. He didn't admit that one of those names had been his own, and not his surname.

"Oh." Hermione exhaled onto Malfoy's face, and this seemingly made him aware of their proximity, as he pulled his arms away and walked backwards until he almost hit the wall. "Sorry," she mumbled the apology, more as a common courtesy, but felt stupid in doing so, as Draco looked at her in strangely.

"Why were you screaming?" He questioned, unsurely.

Hermione thought about how that conversation would go. _"Oh, nothing. Just me having a crazy dream because I'm going crazy."_ No. Her and Draco may have been civil, but they were certainly not friends. And certainly not close enough to share that kind of information.

"I don't remember," Hermione lied, and wasn't all too surprised when Malfoy's face shifted into its signature scowl.

"Just don't do it again." He turned, and left the room swiftly, closing the door behind him. As if she could control it. Well, perhaps she could brew up a batch of dreamless sleep potion. _How did he even get in?_ She distinctly remembered putting locking charms on them. It wasn't important. Her and Malfoy were civil, nothing more.

Hermione sighed and shook her head. Malfoy was creeping into her thoughts way too often for comfort. She had more important things to think about. Like Hannah Abbott's death. She knew she should just trust Harry and Ron, and that it was probably just the 'slashers', but something inside her screamed that it was more. Harry and Ron had acted like it was nothing; like it could be fixed...but like they said, this was something they had seen before and they still hadn't caught the slashers. So, Hermione was going to bring it up at the heads meeting today. The only problem was...Malfoy would be there too.

She got up and got ready, before heading to the great hall. When Hermione walked in, it was like the events of the day before hadn't even happened. Everyone was a bumbling mess of chatter, and laughs, and the floors had been cleaned up. Even the enchanted sky above was light without a cloud in sight.

She took a deep breath in, and drifted to her table. At least Ginny didn't look too happy. She was clearly sulking, and picked at her food; something that Hermione could never understand. She sat down, and filled her plate up.

"What's wrong?" Ginny asked, disinterested.

"Besides the fact that somebody was murdered?" Hermione responded, picking at her own food. Now she got it. The loss in appetite. "Nothing."

"Harry left quite fast," Ginny said, finally looking up, a solemn glisten in her pupils. "He didn't even say Hello, or goodbye."

"I'm sure he was in a rush," Hermione assured her, but that didn't wipe the frown off of Ginny's face. And that meant that Hermione was going to have to... _oh Godric no...not another thing...maybe a distraction would be good...that's what books are for...she's your friend...fine._ "Hey Gin?"

"Yeah?"

"When did you say quidditch tryouts were?"

* * *

Draco stood on the field, breathing in the brisk air, and watching as Slytherins of every year stumbled onto the field inexperiencedly. This had to be his favorite part of the year; quidditch. The feeling of flying in there quite matched an escape for Draco, and nothing else was quite like it. Well, except maybe reading a really good book, but he rarely got the chance for that, because he was the captain of his house's team, and headboy.

"Hey, Mate," Blaise called, walking up beside him, grinning.

"Hey," was Draco's simple response.

"You ready?"

"Am I ever not?"

"That time in summer at the chalet when you—"

"Ok, Ok! I get it," Draco interrupted Blaise.

"Alright!" He called to the clueless Slytherins, and they crowded around him. "Tryouts are simple. I'm going to split you up into scrimmage teams and see how well you work with each position…" He trailed off, as a bunch of Gryffindors—including the brown-haired bookworm—walked out onto the field in quidditch garb. "What?" He muttered to himself, quirking a curious brow at Granger's clearly uncomfortable manner. He walked over to the Weaselette.

"Slytherins have the field for tryouts today," Draco said when he neared the redhead. "What exactly are you doing weaselette?"

She looked up at him, slight irritation in her eyes, but he could sense a sadness, that made him hesitate.

Ginny sighed and said, "Since tryouts for Gryffindor yesterday were...derailed, Ms. McGonagall said that we could share the pitch with you today."

"I wasn't alerted of this." Draco put his hands on his hips, and he could almost hear Granger's eye roll from where he stood. He looked at the weaselette again. She looked increasingly uncomfortable as if she would cry, and Draco hated when people cry. "But...considering yesterday's events...fine." He grunted.

"I'm sorry what was that, Malfoy?" He heard Granger's voice, and snapped his head up to find her smirk. He scowled.

"I believe you heard me, Granger." Draco's eyes turned into slits, and he heard Blaise's chuckle from behind him.

"I don't believe so, Malfoy," Granger retorted, stepping towards him.

"Ok," Ginny interejected. "Could we just get to tryouts?"

"That's what I was trying to do," Draco grumbled, but beckoned the Slytherins to get on their brooms. He was about to climb his own when he saw Granger struggling to mount. He clenched his jaw in annoyance, and thought about helping her. He was pretty certain that she wouldn't accept his help, and wouldn't stop trying until she got it right by herself. Just like he thought, she took to the air, and a gust of wind hit her face. Draco looked away, and mounted, also taking to the air. And tryouts began.

Gryffindors stayed on the right side of the quidditch pitch, while Slytherins stayed to the left. This didn't leave as much room as Draco would've liked, but someone had just died. He couldn't exactly have said no. He didn't really know how he felt about this whole death thing. It bothered him that everyone was acting like it hadn't even happened. Like it was already solved when it so clearly wasn't. And the cocoa? What the fuck had that been about?

He looked over at Granger. She wasn't doing too bad for somebody who hated sports so much, but her form was all wrong. Like, she had learned how to fly by reading a book...which she probably had. She was doing everything a book would suggest, but looked confused when people would run plays that weren't in books. Eventually she seemed to get the hang of it, anticipating patterns. She was playing as a chaser, probably the correct position for her since she seemed agile, but not as agile as a seeker. _Agile? Since when did he think Granger was agile? Never._

A flick of gold came into focus in front of his eyes, and he snapped back to reality. But it was already gone. The next time that he saw it, he moved immediately. He was swift in the air, and close, really close. It turned and he swerved, hitting somebody and almost sliding off his broom. But someone else had. _Granger_. He shot down fast as he could, pulling her figure up behind him right before she could hit the ground.

"Oh, God," She practically breathed against his neck, and he felt a pang in a dangerously low place. She was flush against him, and her hands clutched across his stomach as the wind fought them. He tried to force his body not to react, and blamed it on the months he had spent without that kind of contact. "Malfoy!" Granger snapped him out of it, right before he could cause them to crash, and he thanked Salazar that his body went back to normal.

He landed in the middle of the field, quickly dismounting and putting as much space as possible between the two of them. She looked at Draco it a strange way also, but he felt as if she had no idea what effect she had had on him just then. _It wasn't because she's granger, it was because it's been months,_ he reasoned with himself. Everyone started to crowd around them, and that was when Draco realized that tryouts were over. And they had ended with a bang.

Granger looked at him from afar, and mouthed the words, 'Thank you." He turned away. He had been civil enough without pleasantries. He looked over at all of the Slytherins staring at him, and wished to Salazar that he could remember who actually did well and who didn't. Luckily, Blaise had been there.

"Zabini." He smirked. "Tell these fine gentlemen who made it on the team and who didn't."

Blaise rolled his eyes, as if to say, 'You lazy arse," but did it anyway.

Later, as they were walking back to the castle, Blaise came up to him.

"What?" Draco asked, knowing all too well the look on Zabini's face.

"What exactly was all that about?" He questioned.

"All what?"

"You and Granger."

Draco stopped in his tracks.

"What about me and Granger?" He raised his eyebrows.

"The whole bickering thing at the beginning was almost normal except your lack of bite, but then you saved her life," Blaise said this as if it was atrocious, and Draco scoffed.

"I did not save the bookworm's life. Maybe just a few of her bones," He reasoned with Zabini, but Zabini saw right through that. He sighed. "We've agreed to be civil."

"Why?"

"Why?"

"Yes, why?"

"Well," Draco began, but stopped. Why did they decide to be civil again? Oh right, they lived together. "We live together, and she thought that it would be best if we weren't constantly attacking each other."

"But you attack each other," Zabini fired back. "It's what you do. You hate each other."

"Yes," Draco agreed. "And she still irritates the life out of me, but I'd like to live in a dorm where Granger isn't constantly screaming at me." Did he? Did he really?

"I find that hard to believe," Zabini muttered, and walked off, leaving Draco very confused.

Throughout his walk back to the dorm, he thought about it. _Really_ thought about it. Why was he civil with Granger? All she did was annoy him. And he hated how she was when she was civil. No fire. Nothing. He wanted to see her angry. He wanted to see her infuriated and spitting words into his face. By the time he had gotten back to the dorm, he had convinced himself. He was going to pick a fight with her. And then this ridiculous civilarity would be over. And they could go back to screaming at each other and not being weird.

He stepped into the portrait with a purpose. He didn't even have to look around before he saw Granger. And it was awful.

She was clad in just a towel in her room; the door open for all to see. And it was not the biggest towel. Somehow this made Draco even more furious, and he marched into Granger's room, shocking her as she finally realised he was there.

"Malfoy!" She squealed. "What are you do—"

"This is my dorm too is it not?" Draco snapped, nostrils flaring as he balled his fists.

"Yeah- I," Hermione stuttered. "I was just—"

"So maybe you shouldn't walk your naked disgusting arse right around the place where I could see." That was a mistake. Granger slapped him. Hard.

"This happens to be my dorm too," She argued, getting closer by the second.

"I know that, you don't have to be a bi—"

"Then fucking act like it!" She interrupted him, and he almost gasped at her profanity. "This place belongs to me too!" She stepped closer. "Just because you're used to having big places all to yourself," another step. "You arrogant arse!" She prodded him in the chest with her finger, forgetting that she was half-naked. "We're supposed to be civil!"

"Do I look like I give a fuck?" He seethed, starting to walk towards her now, and she faltered, walking backwards but still giving him the same defiant glare. "Here let me count all of the fucks I give." He started counting on his fingers, and then suddenly stopped, looking confused. "Oh look, they all fucking flew away!"

"Figures you could be as clever as a rock!" she carried on, and stumbled as he practically pushed her with his own body. "Go ahead! Go again Malfoy! What witty comments do you have for me next?"

"Your hair is a mess," He began, pushing her further back. "You're annoying, and brazen,"

"Well, now I'd love to see things from your point of view," Hermione bit back, fake smiling. "But I don't think it'd be possible to get my head that far up my own arse!"

"Oh, well, fucking bravo!" He sneered. "You said something remotely witty!"

"I have before," Granger countered. "You're just so unfamiliar with wit that it passed you by!"

"Am I?" He questioned. "Or was what you said not so witty?!"

"How impressive!" She clapped her hands between them—a space that was getting increasingly smaller. "You can put your foot in your mouth and your head up your arse at the same time!"

"At least I'm not limited to one remark." Draco clenched his jaw, and finally pushed her up against the wall.

"I hate you," She spat into his face, clenching her teeth together.

"And I've hated you since the moment I met you," His hands rested against the wall on either side of her face. "I always will." In that moment he looked down. He really shouldn't have looked down. Because he came face to face with Granger's cleavage, and then up to her mouth before hitting her defiant eyes.

Her chest heaved up and down, and her angry pants from their argument were loud. They both looked at each other with fire in their eyes, before becoming quite aware of just how indecent Granger was.

Draco pulled himself off of the wall and away from her, turning away so that he didn't have to see the image of her rested against the wall in a towel anymore. He started to walk away, but was stopped when a thought occurred to Hermione.

"Wait."

"What?" he questioned, still not turning around.

"You know how Hannah Abbott died?"

"No, I didn't see her slashed up body in the hall," He responded sarcastically, and heard Granger wince.

"Harry and Ron say they have it all figured out," She continued. "They say they know who did it, but I don't think they do. I want to investigate this myself."

"And you're telling me this why?" Draco turned around, but still didn't look at Granger.

"I want you to help me work on the case," she admitted from where she stood, looking slightly embarrassed.

"Why me?"

"Because," Granger maintained. "Nobody would suspect us working together. I have the connections to the ministry, and you know things about…"

"Death eater subjects?"

"Yes," she hesitantly said.

"And why do you want to find out who the killer is, when tweedle dee and dum think they have it all figured out?"

"Because I know they're wrong," Hermione immediately insisted. "And I don't want another person to die. I don't want another war to happen. And I know you don't either." He scoffed.

"And what makes you think I'd work with you?" He asked.

"Because you want this killer dead as much as I do."

* * *

A/N: Oh yeah, this is when it's going to start getting juicy. I am actually proud of myself for this which makes me feel guilty for being proud of myself because it might not be that good. Don't worry. The next update will be soon...ish.

Please follow, favorite, and review so I know what the heck I'm doing wrong.


	5. Wait

A/N: Enjoy. Or don't. I'm not your boss. Also, I have a song suggestion for when the first point of view changes. You don't have to listen, but I like it. The song is Roslyn by Bon Iver & St. Vincent. Tell me if you want more.

Chapter 5: Wait

* * *

"Are you going to say anything or just stand there like a mute?" The barely covered Granger questioned Draco who hadn't said anything for about ten whole minutes.

"I'm thinking about it," He snapped, shaking his head at her and staring at a spot on the floor.

Granger waited a good five seconds before impatiently asking, "And?"

"I think you sound fucking insane." He finally looked at her, a calm defiance in his eyes.

"Maybe I am," She responded, looking at him with equal fire. "But I know the slight sense in your head knows that I'm right."

"Was that a compliment granger?" Draco asked, dazedly and with a slight smirk on his face.

"As close to one as you'll get from me," She snapped back, but turned serious soon after. "I'm not oblivious, Malfoy. You're right below me in class, it's not all that far off that I would ask you to help me figure this out... So the only question is, will you?"

Hesitation was distant in Draco's head as he looked at her. She almost faltered, but never once did her fire fade. And he was thinking about it. He could help her, finally be seen as some sort of hero, and break free from what kept him forever as a death eater to everyone. But then he would have to get into his confusion about good and bad and the Granger of it all. He could _not_ help her, and let the world become corrupt. Something about the former seemed more appealing.

"Fine," was Draco's only response before he fled her room.

The next month passed in a blur. It was books after books after books on different forms of dark magic, late nights spent in the restricted section of the library, and stacks and stacks of evidence to go over. And already, Draco and Hermione knew more than Harry and Ron. The evidence that the slashers weren't the ones who killed Hannah was clear. The slash marks were different.

Every single person that the 'slashers' had slashed had the same slashing patterns on them, but their limbs were never separated. Also, along with the victims, the slashers always left some kind of note by them. No note was found by Hannah Abbott.

Now, the reason that the killer was killing, they had not a clue. What was their motive? Who was their primary target? They didn't know, because the killer had only killed one person.

"What do we know about Hannah Abbott?" Granger asked Malfoy for about the 300th time that month.

"Again?" He sighed, and looked up from the book of dark magic that was getting him nowhere.

"Yes, again," she sniped, and glared at him irately.

"But, you probably already have that list committed to memory," Draco dragged on, only making Granger all the more annoyed.

"Maybe I'm missing something." Granger looked down, and Draco realized that she seemed unsure. Still irritated though, crinkling her brows. "Maybe hearing someone else say it, will help."

Draco's own scowl faltered at that moment, and he almost felt bad. But he didn't want to comfort her, so he just complied with her wishes.

"Hannah Abbott," He began, and Granger sat down, listening intently. "Was born September 1st, 1979, in Great Britain as a half-blood witch. She was sorted into Hufflepuff in 1991 when she started school at Hogwarts. She became a prefect in her 5th year and was also a member of Dumbledore's—" he almost choked on the name. "Army. She fought in the battle of Hogwarts and returned there a year later to redo her 7th year, but was soon killed. Limbs separated from her body."

Draco stopped, and looked over at Granger. She looked like she was trying to crack a code. But then again, that was kind of her default expression, like she was trying to figure everything out while being slightly irritated by it. Salazar he had been spending too much time with her if he knew this much. And he would never admit it, and he hated it, but doing this with Granger wasn't particularly repulsive.

Yeah, they argued all the time, but that was part of the fun. Something about being able to mentally spar with someone who had a similar IQ to him, was refreshing. Maybe he was just getting desperate.

"Is that it?" Granger asked, causing Draco to focus back on the world.

"She was good in Herbology?" He shrugged, and Granger furrowed her eyebrows.

"None of this makes any sense."

"And it won't make sense until the killer kills somebody else," Draco replies, but Hermione just looked at him, confusedly. "It could be that she's a half-blood, it could be that she's a Hufflepuff, it could be that she was in D.A. But we won't know until whoever did this does something else."

"It's been a month," Hermione said, looking down at her lap. "Have you considered that maybe it was just a fluke?"

"Yeah," Draco said without hesitation, and Hermione looked up at him in some sort of appalment.

"Then why are we even here?" She snapped, jumping up.

"Because." He stood up, gritting his teeth. "Obviously I realized that that was a stupid assessment of the situation, otherwise I wouldn't be trying to solve this with you. I do have other things I could be doing, you know."

"And you think I don't?" Granger retaliated. "You think I want to be solving a murder with _you_?"

"Might I remind you that this entire thing was _your_ idea?" At this point Draco was severely peeved. I mean _she_ asked, practically begged, _him_ to work with _her,_ and now _she_ was complaining.

"Might I remind you that you haven't tried to get out of it once." She pointed at him accusingly, and started pacing the room, frustratedly. Draco stalked toward her.

"Because I don't actually _want_ to get punched by you a second time."

"I wouldn't—" Hermione tried to speak, but Draco interjected.

"Fine then," He literally spat out, as Granger stopped in her tracks. He stopped too, when he realized that this situation was way too familiar. "A verbal spar wouldn't be any less irritating."

Granger seemed like she was about to say something, but she held herself back, taking a breath. After a few tension-filled seconds of silence, she finally said something.

"So, we have to wait, until whoever this psychopath is…" She took a breath. "Slaughters another innocent."

"Basically, yes."

* * *

St. Mungo's was in chaos. There were hundreds of patients being treated, and Ron searched through the crowd for Harry. He was nowhere to be found, and Ron was starting to feel trapped. There was so much blood. Surrounding him like this virus. He just wanted all of these killings to stop.

There had been an attack on the Ministry of magic, and Many were injured. Ron had saved as many people as he could, but Harry strangely hadn't been there to help him. Ron was at the hospital then, trying to get clues as to who attacked the ministry. So far, he had no idea.

Ron luckily hadn't seen anybody he had known on the hospital beds, that was until Narcissa Malfoy's bed was wheeled past him. He ran after it. She was bleeding from the leg, and looked a deathly pale.

"Tell Draco!" She yelled at him, before passing out, and Ron stopped when they went past where he had access to. He sat in the room where the relatives were.

Everyone seemed to remember different things though. Were they bombs, knifes, wands? Nobody could make it out. Soon enough, Harry ran to him, and started asking him what had happened. Ron filled him in as best as possible, but it was hard to explain.

"Where have you been?" He practically attacked Harry with the words.

"I never got the call," Was Harry's only response. That wasn't like Harry. "I'm sorry."

"Right," Ron scoffed. "Well, if you'll excuse me, I have to write the ferret a letter concerning his mother's well-being, or not so well-being."

* * *

Hermione was sat in the library, alone, looking through many different books at once. She was reading through a particularly dull paragraph in the book, "Black magic through the years," by Cooper Andanter. So far, black magic from the 1800s was full of crap. Maybe Hermione shouldn't have been in the library so late at night, but it was pretty much her only chance to be alone with her research.

After all, she had classes, head duties, and trying to solve this case with Malfoy. Malfoy, of all people. Why did she choose him? Because he had death eater experience? Because he was a tad bit clever? Her reasons were starting to blur over the fact that she didn't have a terrible time when around him.

Everybody else looked at her like she needed their help to stay propped up, and like she had been secluding herself too much, but Malfoy never did that. In fact, if anything, he _tried_ to push her. And yes, she still kind of hated him, but their arguments did prove a little bit fun for her.

But now, they were reduced to waiting for someone to die. And they couldn't do a thing about it. It was times like these that Hermione wondered what Harry and Ron were doing. Whether they had stopped the so called, "Slashers." Whether they had thought about her at all. It almost made her want to write another letter, cursing them.

She hadn't really been in contact with either of them, since they had come to the school. Maybe they were still mad about the letter. Well, Harry probably wasn't, but Ron? Ron didn't really have a lot of patience, and was still confused about why Hermione broke up with him. Even though, she had explained it best she could, there wasn't _one_ distinct reason. She just wasn't in love with him. She never had been.

Maybe writing to them would clear her head. She closed her books, slipped them into her bag, and snuck out of the library. It was dark in the halls, very dark. But Hermione still made her way outside before casting lumos with her wand. She walked, and winced at the sound the wind made all around her. Soon enough, she was climbing the steps to the owlery, but she stopped when she heard a familiar voice, and turned her wand light off with a "Nox".

"No." It was Draco. He sounded haunted. "No, no, no, no, NO!" She heard the sound of a paper being thrown around the room, and some of the owls hooted in dismay. Hermione heard his scream, and then something that sounded like a fist being thrown into a wall, and a foot kicking packages around.

She didn't know what to do. She just stood behind a wall, and listened to his freakout silently, frozen to the core. But something in her made her want to move forward. She walked in, when the sounds came to a halt. He didn't even notice her, he was just leaned against a wall, taking in heavy breaths. He seemed serene in a way. That was until she spoke.

" _Malfoy_?" His head snapped up at her voice, in a misted fury.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Malfoy's voice sounded strained, but angry. Still angry. This had been a bad idea. She just stared at him, afraid of Godric knows what. "I asked you a question!" She flinched.

"I-I, I was going to write a letter and send it off," She answered, calm as possible. "But I heard you…"

"Well, you shouldn't fucking eavesdrop!" Malfoy yelled again.

"Like I said, I came here to write a letter, not listen to you," She countered, but it wasn't with her usual fire. She was calm, like she was trying to steady him. Hermione walked closer, and Malfoy looked to the side, jaw clenched. "What happened?"

"None of your fucking business!" he yelled, but she could she a slight tear in his eye, as he looked at her. She had this impulse, and she had no idea where it was coming from, but she walked closer to him. Malfoy looked at Hermione in confusion, but she just kept walking until there was little space between them.

She surprised both of them, when she reached her hand out, and placed it along his jaw. He looked at her then. Really looked at her. It was some kind of shock, something that neither of them could possibly understand. But they didn't move. Just stood there, staring at each other.

Then Draco said, "My mother was hurt." And pulled away from her. "The Ministry of Magic was attacked, and many were injured, including my mother."

"How do you know?" Hermione asked, and Malfoy just pointed to the paper he had thrown across the room. She picked it up, and read it thoroughly.

 _Malfoy,_

 _The ministry of magic was attacked, and many people got injured._

 _Your mother has an injury in her leg, and is in critical condition._

 _She told me to let you know._

 _\- Ron Weasley_

"The ministry was attacked?" Hermione quiered, and looked away from the letter, and tried to ignore the fact that Ron had been the writer of the message.

"Apparently." Draco spoke concisely.

"I'm sure your mother will be fine," Hermione tried to reason, but Draco just scoffed.

"I don't need or want your comfort," He retorted, and Hermione couldn't help, but feel a little offended. She still hated him, of course. How could she not? But she wasn't about to stand there and ignore his hurt over his mother.

"Well, that's too bad, because I happen to be a normal human being with capacity for emotion."

He scoffed again. "You? Normal? You're anything but."

"Like you're any better," Hermione countered.

"Oh, I think I'm loads better." Malfoy smirked.

"That's because you're delusional." She chuckled, but awkward silence soon followed.

"Why do you even want to comfort me?" Malfoy asked, conviction in his tone as he stared Hermione down. "You hate me."

"True, but your mother was hurt."

"So?"

"So, I'm a nice person," Hermione said, shrugging.

"Fucking nice." He scoffed.

"You'd do the same." She crossed her arms, and looked down, shifting her feet in a mixture of anger and nerves.

"You don't know that." Was Draco's guarded response. She looked back up at him. His jaw was clenched, and he was looking to the side as if he was angry with himself. Like he didn't even know whether he was capable of compassion or not. He looked at her as she stared at him, studying his expression. He sighed. "I've done a lot worse than refuse to give someone I hate comfort."

"But that was a long time ago—" Hermione didn't finish before Draco interrupted her testily.

"Not that long ago."

"Would you still do those things?" She hadn't meant to ask it. But she had.

"I- that isn't fucking relevant," Malfoy snapped at her.

"It is so!" She yelled back at him. "When I'm trying to save people's lives and solve a murder with you, it's important to me that you aren't going to murder my friends!"

"I haven't murdered anybody!" Draco shouted at her defensively.

"Would you?" She looked up and down at him.

"What kind of question is that?!" He demanded, fury in his eyes, and fists forming into balls.

"A relevant one!" It was silent again, and the only sounds was their angry panting. But Hermione was impatient. She didn't trust him. Of course she didn't trust him. She hated him. But something in her wished he wouldn't kill. She wanted a straight answer. "Would you kill an innocent person?"

"I-I," Draco hesitated. Hermione couldn't believe that he was actually hesitating. "I—"

"What?!" She yelled. "Would you kill an innocent person or not?!"

"I DON'T KNOW!" He had screamed it, raging. But it wasn't just anger. It was contortion, like saying it was torturing him. "I don't know."

Hermione looked at him in shock.

"How can you not know?" She wasn't yelling anymore. And she asked the question more out of confusion than anything else.

"I don't fucking know…" Malfoy said. "Can you just leave it?"

Hermione didn't know what she was about to say, but she didn't get a chance to answer when they heard a loud cracking noise coming from the castle. They both jumped up, and ran outside to get a sight of what had happened.

The sky was green—distorted, and a bright symbol shot up into the sky. It was dumbledore's symbol used in the sickest way possible. It was torn, and the mere sight of it made Hermione dizzy and nauseous. She fell back into Malfoy, and he helped her back up. And then there was the castle. In some places it was on fire, and some places were covered in this fog.

"What the fuck?" Draco murmured right by her side.

"We have to…" Hermione swayed, and gulped. The dizziness was hitting her heavily. "...Help…"

"Granger, we can barely see the castle," Draco reasoned, and she shook her head tilting still. "And I don't think you're in any position to help right now."

"No…" Hermione almost fell then, her eyes flitting. "We..Have to…"

"Granger?" Draco's voice was muddled, and the world was slowly fading to dark. She passed out, leaving Draco to deal with whatever was happening. "Granger?" He tried to shake her awake, but as that tactic failed, he slowly realized that he was either going to have to leave her there defenseless and try to help the people in Hogwarts, or get the both of them to safety. He didn't know why, but the thought of just leaving her there seemed sick. Besides, McGonagall had a plan for safety. Everyone else would be ok...right?

Another spark shot through the air, and hit the castle. The ground shook, and Draco realized he didn't have time to debate. He picked Granger up and ran in the direction. He hadn't told anybody, but he had a plan in case things went bad, and that was what he had to follow through with right then.

He sprinted, ignoring the shaking of the ground and the weight in his hands. He didn't pay attention to it, all of the adrenaline was vibrating through him. He got to the pitch, and ran to the changing rooms where he would find his broom. Draco set Granger down on the bench, and tried to find his broom, and the portal. Soon enough, he had both of them, the portal in his pocket.

He mounted his broom, and put the unconscious Granger behind him, ignoring the familiar feeling of it. Draco flew into the air, making sure Granger was sturdy, and as fast as he could went to the Keepers hoop on the left side of the field.

Once there, he attached the device to the side of it, and something looking like clear glass covered the inside of the hoop. It was a locat portal, and could only be activated in certain places. It was also a one way trip, but he wasn't worried. There were other ways to move around. The only problem was, these portals usually hurt to go through, but better to feel a bit of pain than to die.

He looked over at Hogwarts, and a tower collapsed. The symbol in the air looked familiar, but foreign to him. Then he looked at Granger. Even in her sleep, she looked distressed. And her bag was still hanging over her shoulder, so he hoped she had her wand. No going back.

He zoomed forward, and passed through the portal, shattering the glass on himself and Granger. He instantly felt sharp pains on his entire body, and figured Granger had awoken to the pain because her shrill scream was in his ear. She clutched to him though.

"Where are we?!" She yelled, clearly disoriented, and Draco cringed. They tumbled to the ground soon after, and Granger stood up first. "What happened?"

Draco stood up, and looked around him. There was a disheveled 2-story house to their side, and surrounding them was a green field of emptiness. The portal was supposed to take them to the manor, and this clearly was not the manor.

"Malfoy?!" Granger walked over to him, as he stared around confusedly. "What happened?"

"You passed out, we were supposed to portal to the manor to be safe…" Draco hesitated.

"This isn't the manor." Granger shook her head.

"Obviously not."

"So where are we?" She questioned, her voice truly terrified.

"I don't know," Draco answered in an equally afraid voice. He pulled out his wand, and a crack noise was heard, but Draco was still there. "Try to disapparate."

Granger pulled her wand out of her bag, and tried. Again, the crack was heard, but nothing happened. Draco then mounted his broom, and flew into the air. He flew up about 50 feet up, before he was shot back, and he struggled to control his broom while landing on the ground.

He shot up a spark, and some sort of forcefield was shown, surrounding them and the house.

"Malfoy, what's going on?" Granger asked. Draco looked around them. They couldn't apparate, he couldn't fly out, and there was a forcefield surrounding them. He didn't get it. They weren't supposed to be there. Something was really wrong. Seriously wrong. "Malfoy?" She shattered his imagination, and he looked at her.

"We're trapped."

* * *

A/N: HAHAHAHAHA...dude...They're trapped...Sorry I've been gone so long. Inspiration didn't really strike for awhile, and I didn't actually have WiFi for 3 weeks so...But, now I'm trying to make myself more available. The next chapter will be long and filled with excitement don't worry.

Also, I just want to thank everyone who's been reading this story. I have 70 followers, and close to 2 thousand people are reading. SO...see you next time...


	6. Everything Will Be Alright

Chapter 6:

Disclaimer: This is ...These characters obviously do not belong to me.

Also there's cussing, but you should know that from the rating.

Sorry this took so long...Here we go...

* * *

"Shit! Fuck! Shit! Oh my fucking—!" Draco shouted in the background, kicking his foot into the side of the house's wall repeatedly, the pain barely registering in his head, as Granger stood off from afar. She barely focused on his voice, sighing when he continued to curse the world. She looked around curiously, quietly trying to plot a way out. "God fucking...I swear to Salazar…" Draco trailed off as Hermione walked behind the house. He paused, and followed her, still panting.

"Granger..what are you?" He stopped in his tracks when he saw her squatting by the back wall of the house touching the dirty siding. She was staring intently at it, and tracing her fingers across it. "What are you doing Granger?"

She didn't look up at him, speaking instead. "Looking for the trace of a portal. Sometimes they're located on walls."

"I'd hardly call those walls." Draco scowled, and Granger practically jumped up from where she was squatting.

"Well, I don't see you trying anything, unless breaking your foot will somehow trigger a portal back to Hogwarts." Granger glared at him, and his expression softened the slightest bit. Perhaps riling her up wasn't the best idea, though it was certainly the most entertaining. Just one insult and— "Care to respond, Malfoy?"

"I don't really think going back to Hogwarts is the best idea," Malfoy said, and Granger's glare turned into one of confusion. Malfoy guessed that she didn't recall what had happened before she passed out. He cleared his throat. "What do you remember?"

Granger stared at the ground for a moment, still in her former position of a squat, one hand still feeling along the siding. What _did_ she remember? She was in the library researching, but decided to write Harry and Ron. When she got to the owlery, Draco was having a fit. She calmed him down, and...She was drawing a blank.

"Brilliant." Malfoy scoffed, rolling his eyes, and Hermione looked back up at him. "We heard a loud noise. When we went to check what it was there was a symbol in the sky." He shuddered, remembering just how disturbing it had been.

"What kind of symbol?" Hermione's eyes darkened with assumption. "Not the—"

"No," Draco cut her off. "It wasn't the dark mark. It was some kind of twisted version of Dumbledore's symbol. Like someone drove a knife right through it."

He could see the gears in her brain working, and wished that it irritated him more. He wished that _she_ was the source of his anger, but it was just their hopeless situation. Which made Draco feel even more insane. _What do we do from here?_ He thought, but his brain made no attempt to answer.

"So are you going to help me, or not?" She asked. He thought about refusing for a moment, but then remembered he wanted out of that place just as much as she did. He crouched down and began to search.

* * *

McGonagall sat at the table as the incessant chatter of everyone echoed off the walls. She had been prepared for something bad to happen. It seemed that it always did in the aftermath of war. She just didn't expect it so soon. Right then, she was thankful that Aberforth had arranged his place to be a sort of safe house for her and a few others.

Sat at the table with her at that moment, was Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom, Ginny Weasley, Blaise Zabini, and Professor Slughorn. The other kids and adults of Hogwarts were scattered at a number of different safehouses. Confusion had settled over all of them as they kept on asking questions. Who they were pointed at, she couldn't tell, but they were very loud.

"Silence, Children!" McGonagall called out. They ceased to talk, and stared at her in question. "I will answer you all in turn. Calm yourselves."

Neville was the only one to actually physically raise his hand, and she nodded at him.

"Ms. McGonagall," He started. His voice was shaking. Luna took his hand quietly. "Who-W-Who did this?"

"We don't know that yet." McGonagall sighed. "But, our aurors are working on that right now. They think whoever killed Hannah Abbot must have done this as well."

"Okay, so what are we doing about it?" Zabini spoke out of turn, but she ignored that and proceeded to answer the question.

"We wait to be contacted and notified whether we can come out of hiding."

"So we're just sitting ducks?" He scoffed.

"I don't like it much either, Zabini, but there isn't another option at the moment."

"We could fight," he suggested.

"You as well as I know, that would be a fool's next move," she spoke through her teeth. "We will wait. We will train."

Zabini gave up on arguing, clenching his jaw and lowering his head slightly. He faintly heard others questioning about St. Mungo's, and Hogwarts and other things, but couldn't focus. He was surrounded by people he didn't even properly know, and one thought crossed his mind.

"Shouldn't Malfoy be here?"

The room was once again brought to a crashing silence at the name of his friend. Luna, and Neville, and Ginny all stared at him blankly. Of course, Looney's blank stare was eternal, but it felt awkward all the same.

"He is elsewhere," McGonagall replied simply. But this brought another question to the minds at the table.

"What about Hermione?" It was Ginny who had asked this softly. McGonagall could see the concern in her eyes. First, she knew her boyfriend would probably never be fully safe, and then her best friend wasn't with a group she seemed to always be grouped with.

"She is...also elsewhere."

"You mean they're together?!" Ginny burst out. This caused the noise to fill the house again, everyone looking at each other with differing opinions, but one thing they all had in common was complete confusion. "She can't possibly be with him!"

"Watch it," Blaise grumbled. "That's my best mate. If anything it's the other way around."

"I didn't mean it like that." Ginny looked down, and Blaise a bought of unexpected sympathy hit him in the chest. He had been harsh for seemingly no reason at all. That used to be a good thing.

"It does seem strange that they would be together," Neville interjected.

"It was not on purpose," McGonagall said, calling the attention of the table back to her. "Originally, Ms. Granger and Mr. Malfoy were going to be here as well. But when I found out that Malfoy had his own plan in case something such as this happened, I modified his portal."

"And Hermione?" Ginny asked.

"She happened to be with him when it all went wrong."

"How do you know all of this?" The questioned seemed to come from everyone all at once.

"I saw them."

* * *

"Come on," Granger nodded her head back at the house. "Maybe there's something inside."

They had spent almost two hours searching the outside of the house for a way out, but nothing was there. No trace of transportation magic.

Draco scoffed, but followed her anyway, trying to calm the tension in his chest to no avail. They stood still in front of the dilapidated house for a moment, before venturing inside. The inside of the house, was pretty much the same as the outside; ugly and exposed to the elements. The little furniture that there was, looked as if it could be broken without effort, and the ground was covered in dust and dirt that was visible through the air. Draco could barely make out what looked like it was supposed to be a kitchen and tiny dining room.

"So much for there being something inside." He scowled, but Granger wasn't paying a bit of attention to him. No. She, of course—with her damned curiosity—was taking a closer look, moving around the house until she found a set of stairs that looked less than sturdy. She was about to go up, and Draco warned her. "Wait." She didn't hear him.

Granger tried to step up, but the step gave way, resulting in a rush of dust around the area. She stumbled backwards, Draco speeding over to catch her and pull her away before she could fall. She clutched to his arms obliviously, and pushed further into him, forcing him backwards until he almost tripped over the couch. He forced some distance between them, as fast as he could, ignoring the sound of his heart hammering in his head. He hated what their proximity did to him, and he couldn't seem to find any explanation for it other than circumstance.

"You know for such a smart witch, you can be pretty stupid," He remarked, pettily, if only to cover the fact that he had just helped her unwittingly, _again._

"Thanks," Granger whispered, her voice cracked. He just nodded silently, annoyed that she hadn't even taken offense to his insult. That was three times he'd saved her life, and Hermione didn't know if that made her feel better about their whole situation or worse. "There's nothing here."

"Obviously." Draco rolled his eyes. "So what do we do?"

Hermione shook her head. She wasn't sure. She'd been trapped before, but that was always when someone was trying to kill her, so why were they just stuck, but not in any danger? Her head throbbed, and she wanted to attempt the steps again, but thought against it when they made a creaking noise all on their own.

"I think maybe McGonagall put us here," she said. "Like a safehouse sort of thing. Maybe she'll contact us soon."

"Some safehouse." He scoffed. "The place is practically falling apart."

"Maybe…" She shrugged, and looked up at Malfoy. "Maybe we fix the place up? Keep looking...see if there's any food."

"Seriously?" He mocked her. "You want to renovate the place that we're trapped in."

"Better than trying to destroy it with my foot."

Draco swallowed hard. There was an irritation in his mind that was blaring. One that he had strangely missed. It had been a while since him and Granger had had a real go of it, and he could feel his wit withering away. Fighting could wait until later, his mind warned.

"Fine."

* * *

The ruckus of the table had in no way died down in McGonagall's admittance to having seen Mr. Malfoy and Ms. Granger. If anything, their voices climbed highed, toned in question after question after question. She made out only a few, such as:

 _If you saw them, why didn't you bring them here?_

 _Where did they go?_

 _Why are they together?_

Some that she had already answered, lingered with people's understandable confusion, but the children were giving her a headache. Even Professor Slughorn chimed in with a few choice questions of his own. It was certainly wonderful when even voices of authority weren't completely on her side. Doing the first thing she could think of above all the noise, she pulled out her wand and quietly whispered, "Nox."

Almost immediately as the light left the room, so did the chatter. The room was silent and at attention. McGonagall brought the lights back and began to speak.

"There is no full explanation of what happened," she said, sighing deeply. "Why I didn't bring them here should be obvious. In the state of crisis we were in and are in, there was simply no time. As for why they're together, I don't fully know. You would have to ask Mr. Malfoy."

Dead silence filled the room as if that was still expected of everyone. They were apprehensive about speaking after she called silence to the room. Neville, at least, timidly raised his hand. She nodded at him.

"Why would we have to ask him?"

"When Hermione saw the symbol in the sky, she passed out. Malfoy chose not to leave her there and quite possibly saved her life."

"B-But," Neville began, but seemed nervous to continue on. "What about his prejudice?"

Now it made sense to McGonagall. He was afraid of offending any member of the table. A weight seemed to fall on all of their shoulders with memories of the past war. Surprisingly enough, it was not Mr. Zabini to jump to his defense first. It was the youngest, female Weasley.

"A lot has changed since the war Neville," she said. Blaise looked at her in thanks. Ginny nodded back at him. Then, everyone brought their focus back to Ms. McGonagall. "So what are we going to do about this?"

"I suppose, in a week or so, if it's safe, I'll send them a message."

* * *

Hermione and Draco spent the next few hours cleaning the place up using any sort of enchantments they could think of. When they were finished with the first floor it looked almost exactly like their dorms at Hogwarts, the only difference being this was much more cramped.

Whenever Draco needed to move to the other side of the living room, he couldn't seem to do it without getting too close to Granger. It definitely would've been better if he'd have just gone to the manor. But then again, it probably wouldn't. Especially with Granger there. He would never, for the rest of his life, be able to force the image of her convulsing on the floor out of his mind. That word. That damned word scrawled across her arm, _carved_ into her by his loony aunt.

He felt like vomiting.

He only realized he was actually, physically, gagging when Granger's voice brought him back to reality.

"Are you alright, Draco?" She hadn't even realized she'd said his given name. It was bizarre. As she faded in, he realized her hand was on his feverish forehead, instantly cooling it and calming him. He must've had a fever if he was letting her stay where she was, letting her off from saying his given name. "Ma—"

He stopped her before she could utter the surname of his cursed lineage.

"How can you even allow yourself to be near me, after everything I've done?" He said it so quietly he could barely hear himself, but she had for sure.

Shock speckled her face. Eyes wide in surprise. Hand frozen and tense against his forehead. Regret immediately overtook his brain and he cursed himself for admitting something so foolish. Especially since her response was so pleasant. Too pleasant. Thankfully she broke the tension, as if she could see his thoughts.

"I guess that's a no."

"What?" His voice was a little above a whisper, wondering what it was she meant by no.

"You're clearly not alright," she said and he recalled her question.

"Right." Then silence again. And her hand was still there. Why? He wasn't sure why. He also wasn't sure why he couldn't move. His mind was overcome with thoughts and wants that he couldn't control. Didn't he want to? He thought about it as he examined her face. Truly examined it.

Brown eyes that seemed so see-through in the moment. Pale skin, spattered with freckles but only a few. Most were on the bridge of her nose. Her nose which was right above her lips. Pink, and slightly bruised. Did she have a habit of biting them? He hadn't paid that much attention, but now that he thought of it, she did seem like the kind of person who did. He wondered for a moment what it would be like—his eyes skimmed up toward hers again. She seemed curious, looking down to a similar area as he had been before. But then he saw his reflection and remembered who he was and just why he shouldn't be entertaining any of this.

He shrugged her hand off his forehead, and walked backward absently. Numbly. Granger was still frozen in place, hand in the air although there was nothing for it to lean against. Nothing but air. She cleared her throat, bringing her arm back down to her side.

"I'm going to check the cabinets for food," she said, still staring. Malfoy nodded, not trusting his voice. He moved slowly, to the couch, sitting down faced away from Granger. He wondered what she was thinking at that moment. Probably—

"Ugh." He was interrupted by the sound of the cabinets closing. "Nothing."

He wanted to retort, but he couldn't fabricate a response quick enough. Soon enough she was gasping. He didn't let himself turn his head to look. He heard her reopen the cabinets. He didn't know what the point of Granger looking again was until she yelled, "I knew it!"

Malfoy's curiosity got the best of him and he turned around to see the cabinets completely filled with all kinds of foods. Cans, and bags. That weren't there before. Of course, he thought. An enchantment.

"Just like spy kids." Granger had a childish grin on her face. He'd never seen her smile like that before, especially not at him and he wished he could make himself want to dampen her mood. But he couldn't bring himself to and instead, once again, his curiosity got the best of him.

"What's _spy kids_?"

"You don't know what spy kids is?" She gaped.

"Should I?"

"It's an American film about—."

"Spy kids?" He interrupted and Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's kind of self-explanatory isn't it?"

"Yes," she relented. "But I still can't believe you haven't seen it."

"You really shouldn't be surprised," he said. "I didn't exactly grow up watching the Tv box."

"It's just called a Tv," she interjected and he grumbled. Granger started looking through the cabinets a moment later.

"What in the hell are you doing, Granger?"

"Looking for tea," she muttered, fiddling around and grunting until finally she found what she was looking for. "Yes."

Malfoy sat, staring ahead as it began to get dark. There, ahead, was a fireplace. He figured he should probably start up a fire if they were to have any light through the night. They still hadn't ventured upstairs and after Granger's spill he wasn't ready to. Getting an idea from that, he stalked over to the stairs that were still broken up, and set them up in the fire place. Muttering a quick incendio charm with his wand, the fire started. And at the perfect time too as Granger has just finished making her tea. But, of course, Granger had made two cups because she couldn't leave well enough alone.

Malfoy sat on the couch and watched as she carefully placed it in front of him, sitting on the seat next to him. He was glad that she hadn't sat on the same couch. Since they got there, Draco had learned that if he wanted to keep his distance, then he would actually have to try.

"And what is this for?" He grunted.

"Your fever," she said it like it was no big deal, picking her own cup up and taking a sip. Malfoy eyed his cup, warily, picking it up, but withholding from drinking from it yet. "I thought we already clarified I'm not going to poison you."

He chuckled, against his better instincts, and took a sip. It was good. Warm, and slid down his throat, coating it in sweetener. As much as he hated to admit it, it was the best tea he'd had. He wondered what her secret was. What enchantment was in there.

"Cinnamon." She interrupted his thoughts. He looked at her in confusion as to what she meant. Brows bent. Mouth open in question. "The tea. I always put a bit of cinnamon in there. It's how my parents did."

Granger's mouth clamped shut at that. As if she'd said too much. Something about that small comment, made her eyes absent even as the reflection of the fire danced around them. And in her absent-mindedness Draco came to his own realization. She'd made the tea the muggle way. And it was better than any other tea he could remember having. Her inferiority was fading fast, and with it, his resolve to stay away from her. But he needed to separate himself because even if he believed her blood was as clean as his, he had spent his whole life tormenting her. She couldn't possibly be over that, and he wasn't going to build a friendship that would just crumble. But, Draco was a master at keeping his distance.

He got up swiftly, leaving the tea on the table in front of the couch.

"I'm going to fix the stairs, and sleep on the next floor," He said.

"I can help—" Granger moved to help him, but he stopped her.

"No," He said coldly. "I can do it on my own."

As he walked away, Hermione was left completely frustrated. They had just been having a moderately pleasant conversation, and then, just like that, everything was back to how it had always been. She had a mind to ask him just what his problem was. How could he have told her something so personal, some sort of admittance that what he had done was wrong, that he was sorry, and then just shrug it off as if it had never happened. Hermione was the optimistic type. Against _her_ better instincts, she wanted to believe that there was good in him. He hadn't called her a mudblood since that first night in their dorm, that godric-forsaken dorm.

It seemed they always had a way of getting trapped with each other. First with the dorm. And then with the safehouse. And the whole way through, Dra—Malfoy was off and on with no explanation. He saved her, he argued with her, he told her something real, he brushed her off coldly. It was giving her whiplash. Maybe it was that optimistic side of her, but a part of her was curious. Wanted to know him. What changed for him.

Hermione was _confused_. She remembered the kitchen. He had to be thinking of _something_ to stir such a confession out of him. Something that made him gag. Maybe something he did. Something he regretted. Whatever the case, she couldn't recall ever seeing him look so vulnerable. There was something so reflective in his gray eyes. Something interesting in the way he looked at her. And when she looked down, she hadn't been thinking. Not really. She blamed the loneliness. The isolation from her friends, the proximity of Malfoy, and the admittance that most of her acceptance at that time came from him when he agreed to help her with her case. _The case_ , she thought. How could she have forgotten? How were they going to solve anything if they couldn't even leave this place?

Hermione moved to the couch, laying down and trying to get into a comfortable position. Once she had, she realized that some of his scent had lingered in the room. Something sharp, like peppermint. She closed her eyes, realizing in that moment that her worries could wait until the morning. As could her unwilling roommate. _Just sleep_ , she thought, unaware of the unsuccessful wizard who had settled onto the carpet after failing to rebuild the stairs.

Everything would be alright when morning came.

* * *

A/N: Heyy guys...Sorry it has been such a long time since I've updated this story. I don't know what happened. I guess I just got off track with school, etc. But thanks to anyone who has read this.

Peace out.

See you next time on...Safe ahaha


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